Rapture
by jelenamichel
Summary: Some are saying that the end of the world is nigh. Even with natural disasters, mid-air near misses and rolling blackouts, Tony doesn't buy it. But it does make him consider what he'd regret never doing if Judgment Day arrived. A T/Z story. *Suggest you avoid this one if you're sensitive to natural disasters right now.*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is supposed to be a prequel to my next long case fic (which will probably be titled **_**Laws of Navigation),**_** but who knows if I'll get around to finishing that one? Fortunately this story can stand alone, but hopefully the muse will stay with me long enough so that I can finish **_**LoN**_**. This story provides the frame for the type of relationship T&Z have going into that one.  
Rapture is set around the end of May in season 10, but is AU season 10 from before **_**Shabbat Shalom**_** and **_**Shiva**_**.  
Haga to JMHaughey, jsq and Pitselehvv for beta work and Spanish lessons.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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_Wednesday, 2310_

"You've been humming that song all day."

The tune died on Ziva's lips as she looked at her partner sitting beside her. They'd been sitting at his desk for the last half hour, sharing Chinese takeout and trying to appropriately word Tony's report into why his weapon discharged in a crowded shopping mall car park. His first attempt to explain the situation (_"The Jersey Shore wannabe douchebag had it coming."_) may have been his most honest, but Gibbs had dropped the report back on his desk earlier that afternoon with a sigh and a murmured direction to be more creative before he turned it in again. Technically, there wasn't much of a problem here. The guy who had blocked Tony's car and then made obscene hand gestures hadn't wanted to report the damage to his car to the police, and no complaint had been made. Tony figured the words "open warrants" had been running through the guy's head when Ziva shoved her federal agent ID in his face. So technically, Tony could say whatever he wanted about it and there'd be no one to argue his version of events. No one aside from Ziva, that was, and Tony had no doubt that she would lie to cover his ass. After all, she was sitting there with him and helping him come up with a better version of the truth.

Scratch that. She hadn't made a creative suggestion in a while. She'd been humming while she ate her tofu and vegetables, and the vaguely husky sound had been derailing Tony's train of thought.

Ziva swallowed a mushroom and looked at him like she wasn't aware she'd been making any noise. "Have I?"

Tony nodded and reached over her to grab the container of Mongolian beef. "In the car, in the elevator, at your desk, in line at the coffee shop, the whole time you've been sitting here," he told her. "If I didn't know any better I'd accuse you of being in a good mood." He popped a curious eyebrow at her, inviting her to share whatever news was behind her verging-on-sunny mood. But Ziva just smiled and shrugged.

"I suppose I am," she said, stirring her chopsticks around her takeout box. "I am certainly not in a bad mood, or a murderous mood, or sad or—"

"Oh good," he cut in. "Not murderous today. Important information to have."

"But as you know, my moods can quickly change," she told him, twirling a chopstick in her fingers and then holding it up like a knife.

He rolled his eyes at her 'threat' but otherwise ignored it. "Seriously. Why are you so chipper?"

Ziva shrugged again and leant back in her chair, propping one foot up on the side of his seat. "No reason."

Tony eyed her. He didn't need 15 years of investigative training and eight years with her to read the big fat lie in front of him. He thought back over the last week of conversations with her and tried to recall if she'd said anything about something she was supposed to do today, or maybe a purchase she'd made or an event she was looking forward to. He came up blank.

"Don't lie to me," he told her, hardening his tone like he would to talk to a suspect. He immediately smirked to assure her he was teasing, and when he didn't end up with a chopstick in his ear canal he guessed she wasn't bothered by the scolding.

"It is nothing," she said, but there was a self-conscious curl to the corner of her mouth that told him it was actually something pretty significant to her. "It's silly."

He popped some beef in his mouth and gestured at his computer screen. "Silly like shooting a guy's car because he wouldn't get out of the way fast enough?"

Curious brown eyes searched his face. "That's not why you did it," she charged.

It was Tony's turn to shrug. "No." He didn't know _why_ he'd done it. He knew he'd been feeling frustrated and angry and stressed out at the time, but he wasn't clear on why that was. He suspected it had something to do with Ziva, and that alone told him that he shouldn't search any deeper for answers. He'd only end up more frustrated and stressed out, on top of confused, if he did.

Ziva's eyes softened. "I am worried about you."

Her honestly made his throat tight. The two of them didn't do honesty that much. They did plenty of hiding behind metaphor and a lot of deflection. They'd even gotten good at talking in riddles, and more often than not their sighs and glances would carry an entire conversation. But flat-out honestly, the kind that most people relied on every day, was so alien that if it was used at the wrong moment it could bring on a full-blown panic attack. There was just too much that honesty could expose between them. Things that they'd both been working hard on being more open about, but which habit had them trying to hide. Things that, if given too much thought, could drive a normally stable man to shoot at the rear fender of a stranger's car in a desperate attempt to alleviate some of his frustration.

Huh, maybe he _was_ clear on his motivations for that incident.

Ziva was still looking at him, her brow furrowed with concern and her oh-so pink lips barely parted. The lip-gloss she'd been wearing earlier in the day had come off sometime after her third coffee, but Tony kind of preferred it when she wasn't made up. The natural pink of her lips made his thoughts go to a sex place at least half a dozen times a day, and he'd always thought she looked younger and somehow happier without all the eye makeup she'd taken to wearing a year or two after arriving at NCIS. And her hair…Sweet baby Jesus how he loved her hair when she didn't bother straightening it or pulling—

"Tony?"

"Huh?" He dragged himself back into the present and tried to focus on what she was asking him. Except now he couldn't remember what that was.

"I said I am worried about you," she repeated. "And the way you are silently staring at me is not reassuring me."

He cleared his throat and looked away. "I'm fine," he told her. "I was just tired and cranky. The donut place was out of the glazed kind with the cherry filling, and you know how I need my daily hit of sugar."

His attempt at deflection didn't work. "Is there something going on?" Ziva asked gently. "Anything you want to talk about?"

He shook his head quickly, waving the entire incident off as nothing to be worried about. "Ziva, seriously. There's nothing going on. I had a crappy morning. Don't worry about it." He looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. "But if you want to talk about why you're in such a good mood…?"

She opened her mouth, but whether she was going to fill him in or tell him to mind his own business, Tony would never know. A voice from above cut into their dinner and study date and demanded attention.

"DiNozzo! David!" Vance called from the catwalk above them. "I'm glad you're both still here. I need to see you in my office."

Tony tilted his head back in time to see an upside-down Vance retreating towards his office, and then rolled his head to the side to look at Ziva. She cocked an eyebrow at him as Tony winced.

"You think he's about to drag me over the coals for shooting up that guy's car?"

Ziva wiped her mouth with a napkin and shrugged as she stood up. "Perhaps. But I doubt he even knows about it yet."

"Maybe Gibbs told him."

Ziva shot him a look that told him how ridiculous she found that idea. "Why would Gibbs tell on you to Vance?" she asked.

Tony pushed his chair back and joined her on the other side if his desk. "Maybe he's trying to teach me a lesson."

Ziva snorted as they rounded the corner to the staircase. "It is not a lesson you need, Tony," she lectured. "You are not a probie. You just had a brain snap."

"Yeah," he sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "Maybe he's going to give us another undercover assignment."

Ziva clicked her tongue. "Possibly. If I were to pull two people off Gibbs' team for another assignment, I would also wait until the dead of night when I was sure Gibbs was at home before putting my plan into action."

He shot her a knowing smile. "Gibbs would still know. Right now, this entire scene has probably just entered his dreams and he's monitoring the situation from his bed until he decides whether he needs to spring into action."

She eyed him as they reached the top of the stairs. "What movie is that from?"

Tony shook his head. "Not a movie. It's from a documentary about Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

Ziva paused outside MTAC and touched his arm. "Tony, you know he does not really have superpowers, yes?"

Tony clutched his heart in mock shock, and then continued to Vance's office. Ziva grabbed his arm again inside Vance's secretary's office and stepped in close enough so that her chest touched his.

"If you are in trouble," she whispered, "whatever you say, I will back you up."

It didn't need to be said, but Tony appreciated it all the same. He gave her a smile in lieu of kissing her. "Thanks."

She nodded, and then let him lead the way in to Vance's office. The director was standing behind his desk pulling files out of the filing cabinet and dropping them into his briefcase. He glanced up when Tony and Ziva made their entrance, and then chuckled at the rigid stance they took in front of his desk. Ziva stood with her hands clasped behind her back, ready to receive orders. Tony's hands were by his sides, but his spine was as straight as Ziva's. Shoulders straight, chin raised, jaw set. Soldiers ready for war.

"At ease," Vance threw at them with a chuckle. "What are you both doing here so late?"

"Had a report to finish," Tony replied. It was the truth. Just not the whole truth.

If Vance was curious, he didn't let on. "Uh-huh. Barring any new investigations, do you two have plans tomorrow?"

Tony and Ziva glanced at each other, as if they knew each other's social calendars inside out.

"No sir," Ziva replied.

Vance searched the pile of folders in his briefcase and then pulled one out. He tossed it across the desk at them. "I need you to fly down to Miami and escort this witness back to DC. He was supposed to get on a plane today, but I've just been advised by Agent Larson that he conveniently missed his flight."

"Conveniently?" Tony echoed as he picked up the file and flipped it open. Ziva looked at it over his arm.

"He's been uncooperative," Vance replied. "Mostly because he drinks like a sailor. I need you to pick him up from his motel, drag him to the airport, keep him sober the whole way and deliver him here." He looked between them. "Think you can handle that?"

"Sure," Tony said at length, not managing to hide his extremely reluctance to fly to Miami and back in a day and play babysitter for a drunk.

Vance cocked his head with a knowing look. "It's a crappy assignment," he said bluntly. "And you're both too good for it. But I need someone to get on a plane at 0600 tomorrow and you were the first two agents I saw." He smirked. "Maybe you'll both rethink hanging around in the middle of the night when you don't need to from now on."

Tony nodded. "Yes. I think I might start doing that."

Vance shut his briefcase and locked it. "My apologies, agents. If you find a conference you want to go to down in the Bahamas, let me know and I'll sign off on it, no questions asked."

Tony's smile lit up his face. "Really?"

Ziva smacked his stomach and shook her head. "Tony, no."

Her response and the look on Vance's face was enough to tell him it'd been a joke. His smile fell. "Oh."

Vance eyed him, and almost had a change of heart. "Maybe," he said, then picked up his briefcase and walked around his desk. "Thank you, agents."

Tony and Ziva preceded Vance out of his office, and waited while he closed and locked his door.

"I take it Gibbs is not aware of this assignment?" Tony asked, waving the folder.

"No, he's not," Vance replied, and overtook them both as they passed his secretary's desk. "But it's not classified, so you can feel free to go ahead and tell him whatever you need to." He turned back to flash them a smile that told them he knew exactly how Gibbs would take the news, and then gave them half a salute. "Good night."

They watched as Vance walked at double-time down the hallway and rounded the bend to the elevator. A moment later they heard the ping of the doors opening.

Still standing at the head of the hallway, Ziva looked up at her partner. "I suppose he had somewhere to be."

Tony looked back at her. "You think there's a chance that was his punishment for me shooting that guy's car?"

Ziva made a face. "Why would he also punish _me_?"

"Conspiracy to commit fraud."

Ziva's shoulders slumped as she sighed and started down the hall. "You must let this go, Tony. The douchebag is not pressing charges. The only reason you must fill in a report is because it is standard procedure when you discharge your weapon. Stop worrying about it."

"I'm not worrying about it," he lied as he followed her.

"That is not to say that I do not think you should talk to someone about what is bothering you," she went on.

"There's nothing bothering me," he lied again. Ziva snorted in response but didn't push it further. He changed the subject. "Okay, so you book the flights and I'll book the car."

"And you can call Gibbs," she added.

Tony made a face at her back. "Why me?"

She spun to face him with a smile. "Because you are my senior field agent," she replied. "It is your job to ensure that our team leader is aware of the location of his team members."

"Technically that's his own job," Tony countered. "I just do it because I'm nice."

"And because you are a mother hen," Ziva mumbled.

He heard her fine, but took umbrage. "I'm a _what_, agent?"

Ziva sighed but humored him as she led him to the staircase. "You are an extremely proficient and overachieving senior field agent," she said, raising her voice so he (and anyone else within 20 feet of them) could hear her. "And you worry so much only because you care so much."

"Thank you, Agent David."

She twisted to look up at him for two steps down. "You are still calling Gibbs," she told him.

"Yeah," he said with a wince. He knew his place. "But maybe not until we're about to board our flight out."

They returned to the bullpen, and Ziva grabbed her chair from Tony's desk and rolled it back to her own. As she started looking up flights, Tony saved what little there was to his report and cleaned up their dinner.

"I want the aisle," he called over to her.

"Yes, I know."

He slid on his jacket. "I'll pick you up about ten to five."

Ziva shook her head. "No, I will meet you there. It will give you another 20 minutes of sleep."

Tony looked over to her and had to smile. Getting up at 0400 wasn't much effort for Ziva. But for him it was an epic battle. For every minute past four in the morning he was able to sleep, he would feel a year younger when he finally got going. And the odds of him being in a good mood got better. At least that was the theory Ziva had developed after about their fourth early-morning trip together. Tony had to concede that he thought she was probably right.

"Thanks."

She glanced up at him with a brief smirk, her thoughts most likely mirroring his. "If you get there before me have coffee waiting."

He nodded and tossed the rest of his takeout in his wastebasket. He held her container up and shook it in question, but Ziva shook her head. It joined the other container in the bin.

"United at 6:05," Ziva told him. She reached for a Post-It and jotted down the flight information, and then held it out to him. He peeled the note off her finger and stuck it to the face of his cell phone.

"Coming back?" he asked.

"I have not gotten that far yet," she told him. "I will let you know tomorrow."

Tony leaned back against his desk, despite being dismissed. "I'll wait."

She shook her head. "Don't be silly. You are going to be sleep deprived as it is."

"Five minutes won't kill me."

"No, but you might wake up feeling like you're forty-si—"

"Hey!" he cut in, pointing his finger at her warningly. "It doesn't need to be said aloud, Ziva. We all know how old I am. You don't need to bring it up."

Ziva smiled at his predictable reaction. "I apologize."

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her to cover his sensitivity over the issue. He'd made peace with the fact that Father Time marched on and that everyone from physicists to Cher had failed to find a way to turn back time. On most days, Tony didn't have a huge problem with the fact that he was advancing in years and had passed another significant birthday milestone. His body was holding up okay without too many aches and pains, and he thought he still looked pretty good. When Gibbs or McGee teased him about entering his forties it didn't bug him so much. But for some reason when Ziva did it, his confidence took a hit and he started panicking that by the time he got around to having kids, strangers might confuse them for his grandkids. Probably it was for the same set of reasons that had made him shoot that guy's car.

"You are sulking," she said softly.

"No, I'm not," he argued. "I'm just thinking about which part of your car I'm going to shoot."

Ziva sighed and pushed her chair back from her desk. "Coming back at 1630," she told him. As she crossed to the printer by the window she patted his cheek gently and gave him an apologetic smile. Tony's mood instantly lifted again. All was forgiven.

When she returned from the printer she handed him his boarding pass for the morning flight. Tony folded it in thirds and stuck it in his inner jacket pocket.

"I'll book the car from the airport," he told her.

Ziva bent over her desk to shut down her computer. "So you can smile at the desk girl until she upgrades you free of charge?"

"Yep."

Ziva smirked and slid on her jacket. "And will you once again make me wait out of sight while you do this?"

"Probably."

Ziva nodded to herself. "Good. At least we are clear on that." She picked up her bag and joined him to walk to the lift.

"It's nothing personal," Tony told her. "It's just easier to take advantage of women when another woman isn't standing next to me." He watched Ziva purse her lips as they stepped into the elevator, but he wasn't sure what that meant. "What?"

Ziva leaned back against the wall as her eyes slid over to him. "I am trying to work out if I am offended or not."

Tony hit the button for the foyer. "It wasn't intended to be offensive. To you, I mean," he added. "Although the idea itself is generally pretty offensive, I guess."

"Yes, it is," she assured him.

He looked away uncomfortably and scrambled to change the subject before she could get mad at him. "So, you were about to tell me why you were so happy today."

Ziva stared at him blankly for a moment before their conversation that Vance interrupted came back to her. "Oh, yes," she said, and then paused as the same self-aware smile from before crossed her face. "It is silly," she said again as she lifted her hand to rub her ear nervously.

"Tell me anyway."

She glanced at him under lowered lashes. "It's just…today is my anniversary."

Tony cocked his head to the side and smiled under a curious frown. "Your anniversary? For what?"

Ziva shifted her weight to her other foot and made a wild gesture with her hand. To Tony, these were classic signs of a Ziva who was feeling very emotional but was trying not to. He turned further in her direction, curious about where this was going.

"It has been two years since," she paused to take a breath and let it out with an indulgent smile. "Well, two years since I became a citizen."

Tony stared at her smiling face as dread fell over his. He took a step away from her and hit the emergency brake and then turned to face her. "Are you kidding?"

Ziva's smile faltered. "What?"

She wasn't kidding. Tony felt his stomach drop and raging guilt took up residence in his chest. He lifted a hand to rub it over his face and barely resisted the urge to slap himself. "Jesus. Ziva, I'm sorry."

What remained of her smile drained away. "For what?"

He eyed her carefully, and when he realized she was asking sincerely he felt a big pile of self-loathing drop on top of the guilt. "For not remembering."

Ziva shook her head and waved her hand through the air, absolving him. "Tony, don't worry about it. It is a silly thing. I would not expect you or anyone else to remember."

"Of course you should," he argued.

Ziva chuckled. "I doubt they even have Hallmark cards for such an occasion, Tony," she said. "I am not upset. It was just a happy day for me." She shrugged. "It is no big deal."

He stepped closer. "Yeah, it is. It should have been a big deal that we all remembered."

She patted his chest, still refusing to get upset about it. "You do not have to," she told him. "And you were not even there for the ceremony, so why should you—" She stopped herself at the look of look of remorse that he felt cross his face. Her hand rested against his chest as she stepped into him. "Tony, I did not mean for that to…" She trailed off as she tried to find the words. "I do not blame you for not being there. You know that. We talked about this."

Tony sighed and his shoulders slumped under his guilt. They hadn't gotten around to talking about his absence from one of the most important days of her life until this day _last_ year, when Abby had remembered it was her first anniversary. On that day he'd apologized for letting her down (and Ziva had argued that he _hadn't_, and that she understood that orders were orders), and promised he'd remember for this year.

It was another promise he'd broken.

"I'm so sorry. I forgot again."

There was just enough softening of her eyes to tell him that she'd wanted to hear that. But still, she shook her head. "It is not your anniversary. And I have never been interested in celebrating other anniversaries anyway."

"Yeah, but I promised you I'd remember," he said.

"Everyone forgot," she said, as if that was the thing that was supposed to make him feel better. "It is not the end of the world. It is not as if I gave birth on the day. I honestly do not expect anyone to remember."

"_I_ should have," he insisted, but Ziva was done with his self-flagellation.

"Tony, enough," she said sternly. "I do not want any more of this guilt from you. Just say _'Happy anniversary, Ziva,'_ and that will be the end of it." She raised her eyebrows expectantly, waiting for him to follow her orders.

It didn't seem nearly enough, but right now what more could he do? He could only think of one thing. He cupped her jaw and closed the final distance between them to press a soft kiss to her cheek. "Happy anniversary, Ziva," he said, his lips brushing the skin of her cheek.

He felt Ziva's hand on his chest curl around the fabric of his shirt, and as her breath hitched he swore she pressed her hips forward. He turned his head, and for a fraction of a second he was sure he was going to kiss those soft pink lips he'd built countless fantasies around. But he hesitated too long, and Ziva's head barely tilted away from him. He took a breath and stepped back, and he used the three seconds it took to turn around and restart the elevator to calm himself down. By the time he faced her again, he was regular, in control Tony.

"I'm going to make it up to you," he told her, trying to ignore the fact that she was breathing harder than she had been a few seconds ago. "Saturday night, we'll have a second anniversary celebration, okay?"

Ziva swallowed before regaining composure and smiling back at him. "Okay," she said, and then paused. "Unless Vance has fired you by then for shooting up that man's car. In that case, it we will have a farewell party, yes?"

Tony threw her a flat smile at her teasing. "Yeah. Thanks, Ziva." He pumped his fist. "Partners to the end, huh?"

She winked at him as the elevator pinged and the doors opened. "Until the end of your employment, yes."

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**Note: I have finished writing this, so I won't leave you having for a year and a half like I have in the past on other stories. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Please don't assume I'll be posting this one daily, but I felt the need to post this now to clear up something people seemed to misunderstand: This story is not a one shot. It's not **_**long**_**, but it's about eight chapters. So if you felt that chapter one didn't really feel finished as a story, that'd be why. Also, portions of this fic have been posted on my Tumblr before, so some of you might feel that bits sound familiar.  
Anyway, thanks for your interest and here's chapter two. The rest will follow weekly from here on out.  
**

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_Thursday, 0520_

Tony hid his yawn behind his cup as he turned away from the coffee counter at the airport. Despite clinging to his mattress until the very last possible second that morning, he'd clearly needed another hour or so to make him feel even close to his age. Right now he felt more like _Gibbs' _age. The up side of that was that he could be grumpy without conscience. At least until the moment Ziva shot him her _Side-Eye of Impending Intolerance_. Then he'd have to start trying to act like someone who didn't take her for granted every day.

He balanced Ziva's coffee top on top of his as he swiped a complementary newspaper from the rack beside the counter and folded it under his arm. Then he began the long walk to the departure gate. A staff member passed him in the airport version of a golf cart, and Tony considered calling out and asking for a ride. But the cart was gone before he could decide how personally embarrassing it would be to jump on board transport that was usually reserved for the elderly and incapacitated. He spied the moving walkway 20 feet ahead, and at this time of the morning Tony figured he could get away with being one of those annoying people who stood still and treated it as a ride. Usually Ziva dealt with those people by shoving past them with more force than necessary (bonus points if she made them spill their coffee on themselves). But, with a quick look over his shoulder to confirm, Ziva wasn't around yet. Tony reckoned his suit would be safe.

When he finally reached the departure gate, Tony found Ziva already sitting in one of the hard, narrow chairs. Her attention was focused on her cell phone but he knew she was probably already aware he was there. As far as Tony was concerned, both Gibbs and Ziva had superpowers. He didn't care that they both denied it.

He dropped into the seat beside her and wordlessly passed over her coffee. She took it without lifting her eyes from her cell phone, murmured her thanks, and then drank about half the cup in one go. Tony sipped more daintily at his and then opened his paper. No one was in a chatty mood, it seemed.

It was five minutes before Ziva finished her coffee and set it on the ground beside her. "Shot?"

He didn't need her to clarify. Tony was fluent in the language of Sleep-Deprived Ziva, even when he was as deprived as her. "Hazelnut."

"Nice," she nodded.

Tony nodded back, and then made a huge effort to construct a full sentence. "They were all out of Americana flavor."

"What is that?"

He managed to pull his eyes from the newspaper to look at her. "Kind of a mix of bald eagle and apple pie."

Ziva made a face at him. "I am happy with nuts."

Tony's eyes filled with amusement and fondness, but he couldn't make himself comment. Ziva raised an eyebrow at his silence.

"I just handed that to you and you are not even going to try to make a joke?"

Tony smiled and closed his eyes as he dropped his head back against the seat. "I can't. I'm too tired. But I promise I'm thinking of something really inappropriate."

"Well good," Ziva replied. "I would hate to think that I have lost you."

Tony lifted his head again and shook it. "I'll try to have a response for you by the time we land in Miami."

"I will certainly look forward to that."

He smirked and returned his attention to his newspaper. He turned the page and scanned the headlines, and then read an article halfway down the page. "Hunh," he grunted.

"Hmm?"

"You know how you said last night that it wasn't then end of the world?"

"No."

"You did," he assured her. "But apparently, it is. Saturday night's going to be a total fire and brimstone shower, and we're all going to meet our assorted makers."

"According to whom?"

"Crazy people," Tony replied.

"Well, they would know."

Tony read aloud from the article. "_Expect volcanoes to erupt around the globe, mega earthquakes, tsunamis and floods, super storms and electrical storms that will wipe out power and telecommunications_." He paused and glanced over at her. "We might have to put anniversary celebrations on hold, Ziva."

She picked at her nails, displaying roughly the level of alarm the news required. "Do you know anyone with a bunker?"

"Pretty sure Gibbs would have a hidden hatch in his basement," Tony replied. He threw back the rest of his coffee and handed her the paper before picking up her discarded cup and taking them over to the trash.

"_Facebook groups have sprung up encouraging people to share details of the acts they will engage in that they would regret never doing, should the Rapture wipe out mankind come Saturday night,_" Ziva read. She folded the paper and handed it back to Tony as he sat down. "I suspect a lot of those acts would keep people like us busy if we were still alive."

Tony cocked an eyebrow and deliberately misunderstood. "Why? What acts are you and I going to get up to that'll keep us busy?"

Ziva attempted to give him a withering look, but the smirk on her face diluted some of its impact. "I meant law enforcement," she spelled out. "Arresting people for the depraved acts they will engage in."

"Why do you assume they'll be depraved?"

"Because otherwise people would have done them already," she reasoned.

"What if they're just too scared?" Tony countered. "What if they're stuck in a situation where they're not sure they can deal with the consequences of the act, even if it's a perfectly reasonable desire that would improve their quality of life. The only problem being that it would piss off someone else that they don't want to piss off."

Ziva stared at him for a moment as she took that in. "So...the caffeine has kicked in, yes?"

Tony supposed it had. "I'm talking about, say, an abusive relationship. Someone wants to leave it but they don't because they're scared of the consequences. They're scared that their partner might track them down and kill them, or kill their kids. So they stay in the relationship. But this would give them a solid gold reason to leave and have just one or two days of freedom before we're all reduced to ash by a flaming meteorite or something."

Ziva closed her eyes as she listened to him and rubbed her head. "So, you are saying that the Rapture this weekend will cause victims of domestic violence to leave abusive relationships in droves?"

It sounded stupid when she presented the abridged version. "No," he sighed in defeat. "I'm just saying that people won't necessarily engage in exclusively depraved acts."

"But they will be _mostly_ depraved," Ziva charged.

Tony nodded, giving up completely. "Yeah, yeah. Sex and drugs and rock and roll. And a lot of running naked through public places."

Ziva snorted. "That is what you want to do to avoid regrets?"

"No," he chuckled. "I don't know what I'd do."

"Well, I may be alone in this thought, but I think you will have more than three days to work it out."

"Are you saying you don't believe the hard evidence reported in this highly reputable newspaper?" he asked, shaking the tabloid at her.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "I will take my chances and make plans for Sunday."

A voice over the PA system announced that boarding was commencing for their flight. Ziva stood and turned off her cell phone, and when Tony reached for his she assumed he was doing the same. When she had to wait for more than five seconds she frowned impatiently at him.

"What are you doing?"

Tony looked up at her from his seat. "I have to call Gibbs."

"You didn't call him yet?"

He shook his head. "No. You go ahead. I reckon I'll be able to find you."

Ziva shrugged and headed over to the growing line of passengers forming in front of their gate. Tony stood and wandered over to the windows overlooking the plane, and then dialed Gibbs. While the phone rang, he checked his watch. At 0540, chances of Gibbs being awake and moving were pretty good.

Gibbs picked up right before voicemail did. "Yah?"

"Morning, boss," Tony started politely. "It's a lovely day."

Gibbs paused. "Whose car did you shoot now?"

Tony rolled his eyes. He was _never_ going to live that down. "No one's. Just calling to tell you that Vance drafted me and Ziva to fly down to Miami today to pick up a witness—"

"He what?" Gibbs cut in.

Tony winced. "We're about to get on the plane now."

"You _agreed?_" Gibbs asked, incredulous.

Tony held on to his troublemaking tongue and instead gave an honest reply. "I don't think it was a request as much as an order that we couldn't refuse."

There was a beat of silence, and Tony could imagine the steely glare that was no doubt making itself at home on Gibbs' face. "When can I expect you two to rejoin my team? Should positions still be available."

"Tomorrow."

"Fine."

Tony could feel that Gibbs' phone was about to snap shut, so he called out to him almost before Gibbs was done talking. "Oh, and boss? We suck."

"Yeah," Gibbs agreed, like it was obvious.

Tony shook his head. "No, I don't mean me and Ziva. I mean all of us." He paused as he looked over his shoulder to make sure Ziva wasn't behind him. "We all forgot that yesterday was Ziva's citizenship anniversary." The silence he was met with was comment enough, and Tony nodded. "Exactly."

"Hunh," Gibbs muttered.

"Could you raise that with Abby and McGee before we get back?"

"Yeah."

"I told her we'd celebrate on Saturday."

"I'm not organizing a party," Gibbs began.

"And I'm not asking you to," Tony replied. Geez, how stupid did Gibbs think he was? "I'm just asking you to mention it to Abby and McGee."

"Yeah."

"I gotta go. My flight's about to leave."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs called, his tone softening to the one he used on Abby in particular. "She okay?"

Tony sighed as he felt another wave of the guilt he'd been drowning in the night before crash over him. "Yeah. She said she didn't expect anyone to remember anyway. And she seemed pretty genuine about that."

Gibbs sighed, clearly feeling about as much absolution from the comment as Tony had. "Hunh," he repeated.

"Yeah."

"Okay," Gibbs said, and then hung up.

Tony turned off his phone and shoved it in his pocket before joining the end of the passenger line. He felt a little better knowing that Abby and McGee would be on the citizenship celebration case, and hopefully they (well, Abby) would have an idea of what to do by the time he saw them tomorrow.

…

They were half an hour out of Miami when Tony finally gave up watching sports news to give regular news a try. His eyes wandered around the cabin as the segment loaded on his in-seat TV and landed on Ziva. With her head turned towards the drawn window shade and her eyes closed she looked like she was asleep. But she was completely silent, and that was enough to tell him that she was probably only resting her eyes. Ziva sleeping on a plane meant Ziva snoring on a plane, and _that_ meant flight attendants frequently stopping by to ask Tony whether his "wife" needed a doctor. This morning, all the flight attendants had wanted to know was whether he or his "wife" wanted more coffee.

He frowned and looked out of the corner of his narrowed eyes at her. She'd been awake with her eyes closed the whole time but had not yet slit his throat with the laminated passenger safety card, even though he hadn't corrected two—no, three—flight attendants when they made reference to his "wife"? Geez, she must have been as tired as he felt. Or else she didn't even notice anymore. After eight years of hearing the same song, the "wife" lyric had sort of turned into background music. Still, he had to wonder: did she correct people when they referred to him as her husband? Did people _ever_ refer to him as her husband? And, more importantly, why did his chest suddenly feel so damn tight?

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and rolled his tense shoulders (why did he feel like shooting another car all of a sudden?), and then stabbed harder at the 'play' button on his TV screen, urging it to hurry up and load. What he needed right now was some important current affairs news to take his mind off...whatever the hell it was on right now. _Stupid Ziva and her stupid fake sleeping and their stupid undefined relationship_.

The newscast finally loaded, and within five seconds it had Tony's complete attention. He poked Ziva's thigh over and over to get her attention until she grabbed it in her fist and said his name warningly. He winced slightly, more with anticipation of pain than in actual pain, and pointed at the screen with his other hand. The top news story was about a 7.2 earthquake in provincial China that struck overnight, leading to mass casualties and the demolition of several small towns.

Tony looked at Ziva, and his cocked eyebrow did all his talking for him. Ziva sighed and pursed her lips.

"Earthquakes happen all the time," she pointed out. "Every day. It does not mean the Rapture is coming."

"It's thinking like that which'll get you smited," Tony told her, before frowning at the word. "Smited? Smote? Smitten?" He paused as his thoughts went off on a tangent. "I once knew a guy named Smittie."

Ziva stretched her arms out in front of her. "Of course you did."

He gave her a funny look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ziva shrugged like it was obvious. "You were a cop, yes? All cops in America know a guy named Smittie."

Tony would have argued, had he not looked back at the news at that moment and seen the second report about a volcanic eruption in Iceland. His eyebrow went higher than before as he grabbed Ziva's wrist. Normally, Tony was a pretty rational guy with his feet on the ground. But this morning he found himself wondering, if even for just a second, whether the crazies were actually on to something this time.

"Ziva," he started, but she stopped him before he could get too excited.

"Tony, volcanic eruptions are not unusual," she said patiently. "Nor are floods or hurricanes or tornados or any number of natural disasters."

Tony heaved a sigh, winding her up. "If you are going to insist on being Little Miss Rational—"

"I am."

"Well, that's no fun."

She gave him that _look_ that always made him feel like he should sheepishly offer her a bunch of flowers and an apology. "Acting like the world is ending would be fun?" she challenged.

Tony shrugged, and then shot her a charming, playful smile. "Think of all the rapture we could indulge in before the Rapture." He waggled his eyebrows.

Ziva smirked at the basic flirting and then looked him up and down. "Oh, I am," she assured him, and winked.

He grinned at her playing with him. "I really think you should come up with a list of things to do before Saturday," he told her.

She leaned closer to him and dropped her voice. "I already have one," she purred. "Washing, ironing, vacuuming, fixing that loose hinge on the kitchen cabinet."

He should have seen that coming. "You're going to spend your last day on earth vacuuming?"

"Cleanliness is next to godliness," she reminded him. "If the Rapture does come, clean floors might get me into Heaven."

Tony thought that over, and applied it to the current state of his living room. "Well, then I'm screwed."

Ziva reached over him to pick up the paper coffee cup sitting in the corner of his tray table. She made a disappointed face when she shook it and found it empty, and set it down again. "When did you stop having a maid come around to clean up after you?"

"When I realized it was stupid for a grown man with a one-bedroom apartment who is rarely there pay someone to come around and clean up after him," he replied.

Ziva smirked up at him. "So…last week?"

He returned her faux-catty smile with one of his own. "A few years ago," he told her. 'I'm usually pretty clean, but maybe I should clean the shower when I get home anyway. Just in case."

"You should definitely do that," she told him firmly. "But it has nothing to do with the Rapture."

The seatbelt sign dinged on above their heads, and a moment later the first officer came over the loudspeaker.

"Folks, you'll notice that the captain has turned on the seatbelt sign. We're coming up on Miami and if all goes well we should have you disembarking in about 30 minutes, just a few minutes behind schedule. We've got a pretty large storm system closing in on us that we've been racing for a while now, but it looks like it's going to catch up before we land so we expect things are going to get pretty bumpy. Make sure your seatbelts are securely fastened, and we'll have you safely on the ground in no time."

Ziva raised her window shade, and she and Tony both made small noises of surprise at the huge, black clouds outside the window.

"Hello Sunshine State," Tony murmured.

Ziva waited until a flight attendant had collected Tony's empty coffee cup before she nudged him with her toe. "How did Gibbs take the news that we would be away all day?"

Tony flipped his tray table back up. "Oh, you know," he said casually. "He told us to enjoy ourselves and make it a long weekend."

In a rare moment of gullibility, Ziva frowned with shock. Tony tipped his head to the side and gave her a _come on_ look, and she rolled her eyes at herself.

"He actually mentioned something about perhaps not having jobs when we got back," he told her.

"That sounds more like him."

Tony followed the thought. "Which would mean that we could have a long weekend in Miami after all."

Ziva gestured out the window. "Storms," she said. "You will not have the opportunity to lie on the beach and ogle tanned blondes in bikinis."

She didn't see the sideways shift of Tony's eyes in her direction. "I prefer brunettes."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks all for your reviews and alerts.**

* * *

_Thursday, 0855_

The landing in Miami was one of the ugliest Tony had ever experienced. As the plane descended towards the runway the storm had closed in and they'd found themselves thrown around the cabin like socks in a washing machine. Kids started crying, adults started panicking, and Tony kept his eye on the flight attendants in the jump seats to determine how worried he should be about it. When they'd done little more than smile reassuringly at passengers and roll their eyes knowingly at each other he figured he had nothing (much) to worry about. That was until the pilot aborted their first attempt at landing, pulled the nose up and the sudden g-forces made three people near Tony and Ziva immediately throw up.

Tony gripped the armrests and looked at Ziva as the plane started to shudder and climb again. Bless her iron disposition; she looked only mildly interested in the event. She looked up at him and briefly lifted her eyebrows.

"The storm must be quite large."

Despite the situation, or perhaps because of it, Tony found himself laughing at her assessment. She and Gibbs had to be the only people Tony had ever known who would be so blasé about a near plane crash.

Their second attempt at landing came 20 minutes later and was twice as bad. Had he not been belted into his seat, Tony felt he might have been thrown out of it. He glanced over at Ziva again and found her inspecting her cuticles.

"Hey," he said, and then paused as the plane pitched right and then straightened again. "If they yell out 'brace', we _are_ going to spend the weekend here. And we're going to be drunk for a lot of it."

Ziva smiled as if it were a nice idea that she knew they wouldn't put into action. "Deal."

He nodded and held up both hands in front of him and crossed his fingers. "Brace," he whispered with faux hope. "Brace, _brace_."

Sadly (or perhaps thankfully) they did not end up with their arms crossed against the seat in front of them and their foreheads on their arms. The plane lurched up and down, left and right and tilted sickeningly, but it eventually hit the runway with a bone-jarring bounce and skidded along the tarmac before the pilot regained complete control and they taxied towards the terminal. Applause erupted through the cabin as the pilot came over the intercom to welcome them to Miami, but Tony looked at Ziva with exaggerated regret.

"Damn it," he said to her. "I was really looking forward to doing body shots with you."

Ziva sent him her familiar frown of confusion. "You want to shoot _me_? What if I found you a nice little hatchback to target instead?"

He pursed his lips and looked away from her in frustration, but didn't address her dig at him. "Body shots is a drinking game," he told her. "Google the rest."

It took longer than usual for them to disembark, and by the time they navigated through the sea of damp humanity in the terminal to the car rental counters the lines were ten deep. All flights out for the entire morning and into the afternoon had either been delayed or cancelled, and stranded passengers were looking for other means of transport. Tony and Ziva argued about the appropriateness of using their badges to cut in line, and it only ended when Ziva threw up her hands in defeat and wandered away before she 'body shot' him. Fifteen minutes later they'd dived out of the rain and into a sedan (no convertible on this trip—Tony had _some_ sense at least) and headed off towards the city.

They hadn't gotten very far.

All roads around the airport were choked with cars, and they found themselves in a traffic jam that would have made Los Angeles proud. They were stuck going at a crawl on the Airport Expressway as a torrent of rain fell from huge black clouds and pelted the car. Palm trees bent in the fierce wind, lightning forked through the sky in the distance, and thunder cracked over the sound of the rain on the roof, the wipers going at full speed, the air conditioner running and the weather warning on the radio. The weather station Ziva had found was warning of a storm surge and advising people to get off the beach and seek shelter indoors throughout the storm that was expected to last all day and into the night.

Ziva sighed as she lifted her hair off the back of her neck and secured it in a high, loose bun. "Perhaps we will be spending the weekend here after all," she said to Tony.

Tony swiped his forearm against the driver's side window to clear the fog that had gathered on the glass. "It's no fun if we can't go to the beach," he replied flatly.

"I thought you wanted to get drunk."

"Yeah, on the beach," he said obviously.

"Sun and alcohol," she said, turning that over in her head. "Dehydration and sunstroke."

She heard Tony 'tsk' at her. "You don't have to be Little Miss Practical all the time, you know. Just enjoy the idea of it."

Ziva pursed her lips at the gentle rebuke. Tony's mood had been heading south ever since they got into the car and started fighting traffic in what could turn into a hurricane. It was annoying, but she couldn't exactly blame him. It would be a long time before they made it to the motel where their witness was staying, and being stuck in a humid car (the air-con was close to useless) going at three miles an hour while they could barely make out the car in front of them wasn't something to smile about. But if there was one thing she found more annoying that Deliberately Irritating Tony, it was Cranky Tony. The power to keep him in a good mood was in her hands, and so she did what she always did when she needed to distract him. She offered up a piece of her history without being prompted to.

"To steal a catchphrase from Ducky," she began, "this reminds me of the time I was caught in a hurricane. Actually, I was in Taiwan at the time, so I suppose it was a typhoon."

Tony turned his head to look at her, and she could tell that his crankiness was already being replaced with interest. While he was the sort of person who would gladly share so many little details about himself with anyone he came into contact with, she was not inclined to share anything. They each had their reasons. Tony had found that his method made people more likely to share information with him in return, and he'd probably managed to solve dozens of cases with it. Ziva's method, however, ensured that people could not use the information against her in the future. Not that she thought Tony would ever be so evil. And it did make him happy to hear something about her, so she shared this story freely. She was trying to share more of them lately.

"It was right after I finished my service in the IDF," she went on. "Tali and I met our cousin Roah in Taipei for a week. We had one day of good weather before an enormous typhoon came through, and we spent the next three days trapped in the hotel without electricity. On the first day we had to hide in the interior corridors to avoid shattering glass, and on the other two we were just waiting out the torrential rain and rising floodwater." She shot him a smile as she recalled the event with fondness. "It was not so bad. We drank a lot of liquor from the mini bars."

Tony smiled as he did some math in his head. "So, Tali would've been about 15 when you left the IDF?"

Ziva pointed a defensive finger at him. "She was not drinking," she assured him, and then thought about it a little more. "Well, not much. She met a boy from the hotel and she spent a lot of time with him." She paused as she thought back and smiled with mild amusement. "I think she slept with him. She had a certain look in her eye when we were finally able to leave."

"When she was only 15?" Tony asked, sounding mildly shocked.

Ziva frowned deeply at his conservatism. "And how old were _you_ when you met your Rockette?" she asked pointedly.

"Yeah, okay," he said, conceding her point. He had only been 15 as well, and he knew Ziva knew it. "But that's different, because I'm a boy."

Ziva grunted with disgust at the double standard, and Tony held up his hand to stall her argument.

"I'm not saying it's fair," he said. "I'm just saying that's the way it is."

Ziva rolled her eyes, but elected not to take him personally to task over another failing of gender equity in society. "What was your Rockette's name?" she asked, steering the conversation back to a less contentious place.

"Mindy Roberts," he replied with a slight smile.

Ziva snorted over her laugh, and then quickly covered her hand with her mouth.

"What?" he asked, throwing her a side-eye.

"Nothing," she replied, shaking her head even while she kept smiling. "It is just a very American-sounding name."

Tony's mild offence faded away as he gazed out the foggy window. "She tasted like cherry lip gloss," he sighed.

Ziva smiled fondly at the side of his face as Tony reminisced. "She was older than you," she guessed.

Tony's smile turned proud and he happily shared the information. "She was 18. I told her I was too." Off Ziva's look of disbelief, he added, "I've been 6'2 since I was 14 and I was pretty bulky from sports."

Ziva's eyes flicked over him as she tried to imagine what an overly confident 15-year-old Tony would have looked like. "Where did you meet her?"

"She was the daughter of one of Dad's business contacts. We had some party during the summer that she was dragged to." He paused and looked off into the distance again as he went back to 1986 in his head. "We went up to my bedroom. Simple Minds was playing on the radio. It was awesome."

Ziva bit her thumbnail as she smiled wider. "Did it last long?"

The question brought Tony hurtling back to the present, and he shot her a deep, defensive frown. "The act or the relationship?"

Ziva snorted again. "Either. But I was referring to the relationship."

"No," he answered simply, refusing to be clear on which he was referring to.

"It sounds like the perfect American teenage love story," Ziva said. "Although it lacks vampires.'

"It was more like a John Hughes movie," he told her. "What about you? How old was the young Ziva when she become a woman?"

"I will let you know when it happens."

Tony laughed a little too hard at her suggestion that she was still a virgin, and although getting him to laugh had been her aim, she still leaned over and dropped her fist into his thigh.

"Ow!" he cried, and made to punch her back. Then he thought better of it, and just looked at her expectantly.

"I was 16, and it was in an aircraft carrier," she admitted.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Of course it was," he muttered. "Did you break his nose too?"

Ziva smiled at him remembering that she broke the nose of the first boy to kiss her. "No. I liked him. And I was relieved to get it out of the way."

"What was his name?"

"Benjamin…something." She frowned as she tried to recall his surname, but shook her head and gave up.

"Did it last long?" he threw back at her.

"Thankfully, it did not," she replied. "It hurt like hell."

"The act or the relationship?" Tony asked cautiously.

Ziva lifted her eyebrows. "Both."

He looked at her with an expression that was half wince, half curious. "I guess it generally hurts girls more to begin with."

She shrugged and watched a palm frond get carried across the expressway on the wind. "Well, I have never had a penis so I cannot say this with 100 per cent confidence, but yes. Absolutely."

Tony made a vaguely apologetic face, as if he alone was responsible for the fact, before chuckling. "That's good information to have."

Ziva smirked. "That I have never had a penis?"

His smile grew. "Yeah. I'm just adding it to my mental index of your medical history. Makes filling out those admission forms when you're in hospital that much easier." He started making crosses in the air with his finger. "Diabetes? No. Heart condition? No. Allergies? No. Transsexual or hermaphrodite? No."

She scrunched her nose, but chuckled. "I am glad I have managed to clear up any confusion you may have had."

Tony nodded along. "Yeah, me too. It was going to be awkward to have to ask Schmeil if you were born a man."

Ziva chuckled. "I am not sure how I feel about you two getting so chummy lately."

Tony, for one, enjoyed it. When they first met, he wasn't sure what to make of the tiny philosopher. But he'd quickly worked out why Ziva liked him so much. It worked in Schmeil's favor that he wasn't competition for Ziva's romantic affections, too.

"You know, I was caught out in a huge storm like this once as well," he told her. "It only lasted a couple of hours but it knocked out the power for four days."

"A hurricane?"

Tony shook his head. "No. But intense rain, hail, thunder and lightning. Brought down a lot of trees, and I think it caused a big fire in one of the substations or something." He shook his head as he failed to recall the exact details. "I just remember being very cold, hungry and kind of stinky for a few days."

"What on earth did you do to pass all that time without your movies?" she asked.

Tony grinned wolfishly. "Well, I was in college. I went into hibernation in my dorm room with a girl I was seeing at the time."

Ziva didn't know why she hadn't guessed something like that in the first place. "You had a four-day sex marathon?"

"More like two and a half," he admitted. "But it seemed like the perfect time for it."

"Every cloud has a silver lining," she commented, just as a bright flash of lightning lit up the sky.

"Geez," Tony muttered. "Hey, if it really is the end of the world—"

"It is not."

"Then there's something I have to ask you," he continued.

Ziva looked over at him warily. This had the potential to get to a scary and emotional place, but surely he wouldn't do that to her—to _them_—while they were stuck in a car with no escape from each other. Right?

"What?" she dared to ask.

"You remember that first night we met? We were standing outside your hotel and it was raining kind of like this."

"It was not raining anywhere near as heavily as this," she argued.

He ignored her. "And I asked you who had recruited you into Mossad, and you implied that it could have been a lesbian lover?" He didn't take the question further, but his smirk and raised eyebrows spoke volumes.

Ziva looked back at him, incredulous. "That is the one thing you must know before you die? Whether I ever slept with a woman?"

Tony pursed his lips as he thought it over. "It's definitely in the top five."

Of course it was. Ziva shook her head and looked out the window. "If we get to Saturday and it really does look as if the world if going to end, I promise to tell you."

Another palm frond blew across the road and bounced off the roof of an 18-wheeler before crashing into a light pole.

"I'll take those odds," Tony said.

* * *

_Thursday, 1112_

Luis Zapata packed a lot of sleaze into his diminutive frame. He was 5'5 in his Cuban heels, probably didn't weigh much more than Ziva, and despite the fact that he had spent the whole day in his motel room he was still dressed in a three-piece polyester suit that hugged him a little too tightly around his, well, _everything_. He wore his dark hair a little too long at the back, let the stubble on his cheeks grow a little too much, and wore about half a can too much Brut 33. When he opened his motel room door for Tony and Ziva, his eyes settled on Ziva's damp t-shirt over her chest as he spoke.

"So, you're the crack team the Navy sent to get me?" he asked. His eyes flicked to Ziva's face before returning to her chest. _"Niña, hola. ¿Cómo estás? Tu si eres linda."_

"We are the crack team who has been traveling for five hours and were already pissed off about having to come down and get you," Ziva told him in her scariest voice. "So behave."

Zapata's eyes widened and he took a step back from them. "Yeah, okay," he said, the sleaze giving way to a meeker attitude as his advances were shot down in flames. "Pretty wet out there, huh?"

Tony led Ziva into the room and looked around. "Yeah, but it better be dry in here. You haven't been drinking this morning, have you?"

"No way," Zapata said, almost convincingly. "I had a couple to settle the nerves last night, but nothing since I woke up."

Ziva tried not to let her nose wrinkle at the mess of dirty clothes and take out containers strewn around the floor. "Why were you nervous?"

"I don't like flying," he told her. "Especially not in this weather. It was hard not to have a bloody Mary with my bagel this morning, but I resisted." He gave her chest another eye bath. "You should be proud of me."

She supposed she could have been if she was not completely overcome with pity and revulsion. She shot a look at Tony and he barely nodded in reply. Their crappy day was about to get a whole lot crappier.

"I was watching the news," Zapata said, and gestured at the flat screen against the wall with the sound muted. "They said most of the flights out of Miami are delayed or cancelled. Think we'll miss ours?"

It was beginning to look like a distinct possibility, but neither agent wanted to give him an excuse to have a drink. Tony cocked his head towards the door as he looked at Ziva.

"I'm gonna talk to reception about his check out time."

Ziva nodded and watched him go with envy. What she wouldn't give to talk to surly motel staff instead of being stuck with a barely sober sleaze.

"Hey," Zapata said when Tony left the room. "You didn't tell me your name. Or show me your ID."

Ziva sighed and took her badge from her pocket to show him. "Special Agent David," she said. "My partner is Special Agent DiNozzo."

Zapata peered at her badge, but repeated Tony's name. "DiNozzo. Is that Italian?"

"Is that important?" she threw back.

"Guess not," he shrugged. "You got a nice accent. Where are you from? Cuba?"

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Israel. Is that important?" she asked again with more of an edge to her voice.

"Guess not," he repeated. "DiNozzo your boyfriend?"

Ziva glared instead of answering.

"Because if he's not, and you like a little Dominican…I'm big where it counts."

"Oh my God," Ziva groaned in disgust. The rest of the day was going to be torture.

…

Tony stepped into reception at the motel and shook his head like a dog trying to shake himself dry. The rain outside was getting heavier instead of easing off and the wind was still picking up, but at least the motel wasn't by any beaches or canals. He doubted that they'd be affected by a storm surge if it really did hit.

"Can I help you, hon?"

Tony looked up at the woman behind the reception desk with the voice of a three-pack-a-day smoker. She was tanned to a crisp with sunspots all over her chest and arms, and she wore her bleached hair in a high bouffant. He couldn't even begin to guess how old she was.

"Hi," he said with a friendly smile, and pulled out his badge. "I'm Special Agent DiNozzo with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service."

The woman looked at his badge and then gave him a polite smile tinged with amusement. "Hi. I'm Betty Sanchez from the Ocean Breeze Motel and Grill."

He took her mocking with good humor. "Nice to meet you. The guy in room 23, Luis Zapata?"

"Four feet tall?" Betty checked.

"Yeah. My partner and me have come down to pick him up and take him back to D.C., but our flight will probably be delayed. Can you extend his check out time for a couple of hours?"

Betty looked at him as if she found his naiveté endearing. "Oh, hon. If you're supposed to be flying out of here today, I got news for you: you're not."

Tony's smile fell a little as she gave voice to his fears. "No?"

"I've been listening to the wireless," she said, and Tony assumed she was talking about her radio. "All flights have been grounded. There's a huge storm coming."

Tony jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the car park. "This isn't a huge storm?"

Betty eyed him. "You're definitely not from around here, are you?"

"No."

"This is just the prelude to the storm," she told him. "It'll get worse before it gets better. What time is your flight, hon?"

"Not until 4.30."

She chuckled. "I reckon you won't make it. You probably won't get out of here until morning, I'd say." She looked out the window to her right as a cardboard box flew by the window. "Real big one coming."

Tony rubbed his forehead in an effort to stall the headache he felt coming on at just the suggestion of being delayed with Luis Zapata.

"If I were you," Betty went on, "I'd be paying for another night in that room. You're going to need it."

Tony weighed it up. In his heart, he knew she was right. They wouldn't be leaving today. He just really, _really_ wanted her to be wrong. But maybe it was smarter to err on the side of caution. Waiting the storm out in a motel room had to be preferable to waiting it out in an overcrowded departure lounge, hadn't it?

He reached into his pocket for his wallet. "Okay. We'll do that. Have you got a couple of other rooms I can take for me and my partner?"

Betty shook her head, but hit a few keys on her computer keyboard. "Just one, I think. We were gonna have three or four but folks don't want to leave in this weather." She moved from her keyboard to her mouse, and then ducked under the counter for a few seconds. When she reappeared she held one room key. "Just one," she confirmed. "You want it?"

Tony flipped open his wallet, slid his agency credit card out of its sleeve and slapped it down on the counter. "Sold."

…

"I've got good news and I've got bad news," Tony told Ziva when she opened the door to Zapata's room for him.

"Okay."

He swept his gaze around the room but didn't see Zapata anywhere. He looked at Ziva with a frown. "You kill him already?" he asked softly.

Ziva gestured towards the closed door by the bed. "Bathroom."

"Oh." He closed and locked the motel room door. "The bad news is that the motel owner says that what we've seen so far is only a _prelude_—she actually used that word—to the storm, and she's confident we won't be flying out of here today."

Ziva nodded and led him towards the TV. "Yes. It was just on the news that they have closed the airport."

Tony's heart fell and a pout formed on his lips. "Crap."

"I was about to call the airline."

Tony shook his head and pulled out his cell phone. "We can get McGee to handle that. It's not like he'll be doing anything without us there."

Ziva looked dubious but said nothing as she sat on the edge of an armchair and returned her attention to the news. "They say it is not a hurricane."

"Small blessings," he said as he dialed McGee.

Ziva looked over her shoulder at him. "What was the good news?"

Tony dug his hand into his pocket for the room key and tossed it to her. "I got the last room for us. And they do five dollar t-bones at the grill next door."

"Surely they'll be closed," Ziva said, but Tony shook his head.

"Betty said they'll stay open until the power goes out."

"Who is Betty?" she asked Tony, but McGee answered then and he turned his attention to their travel agent for the day.

"McGee."

"Morning, probie," Tony said jovially. "How are you filling the hours while me and Ziva are down south?"

"Watching the news reports of the massive storm sitting over your heads," McGee replied, sounding way too pleased about it. "It's a shame to get all the way to Miami and then get a hurricane instead of sunshine."

Tony didn't believe his sympathy for a second. "I've been assured it's not a hurricane," Tony told him. "But the weenies at the airport don't want to fly, so we'll probably be grounded until the morning."

"Oh, that's a shame," McGee said.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Got a job for you."

"Actually, I'm kind of busy with—"

Tony cut him off before he could plead his case. "You gotta get me, Ziva and our witness on the first available flight tomorrow," he said. "And I mean first available, probie. Not the first available that you feel like getting us on. Vance wants this witness in D.C. _pronto_."

McGee sighed, but Tony heard the clacking of his keyboard over the line. "What's the witness' name?"

"Luis Zapata. His file's in my bottom drawer."

"Okay."

"Good probie," Tony encouraged. "I'll bring you back a souvenir."

"Thanks, but I don't need an _I love Miami_ t-shirt."

"You'll get what you're given, and you'll like it."

McGee muttered something that Tony didn't quite catch, but Tony smirked at the obvious sentiment.

"Call me back when you've got something," he said to McGee. "Any time is good. My schedule's not looking too busy today."

"You gonna call Gibbs and tell him?" McGee asked. "Because I don't want to do that for you."

Tony made a face. He hadn't thought about updating the boss yet, but now that it was on his to do list, he wasn't looking forward to it. "Uh, yeah. It's fine. Ziva'll do it."

McGee lowered his voice, as if the woman in question would be able to hear him over the line. "Hey, speaking of Ziva, Gibbs mentioned the anniversary thing."

As it had done yesterday, the mention of the forgotten celebration sent a stab of guilt through Tony's chest. "Yeah."

"Is she upset?"

"No." He wanted to elaborate, but not with Ziva within earshot of him.

"Is she sitting right there?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Well, I just wanted to let you know that me and Abby are on it."

Tony nodded as he eyed Ziva's back. "Thanks, McGee," he said sincerely.

"Yeah."

"And thanks for the flights," he felt the need to add.

"No problem," McGee said. "I'll call you later."

Tony hung up and walked over to stand behind Ziva and watch the news report. "McGee's gonna sort it out."

Ziva nodded and looked up at him as if she was about to ask a question, but the door to the bathroom opened and Zapata wandered out.

"Hey there, Special Agent DiNozzo," he said. "What's the word?"

"The word is that we're probably not flying out until tomorrow. But if you even look at a drink between now and then you'll be making the trip in the cargo hold. Got it?"

Zapata held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, no problem. I'm quitting anyway. Nothing good ever came out of a bottle of tequila." He paused and reconsidered. "Except tequila." He smiled and started walking around the bed towards them, but stopped dead when Ziva sliced her arm through the air to point sternly at him.

"Hey!" she warned. "What did I say? Ten feet away at all times."

Zapata took two steps back and looked between his feet and hers as if making a guess at the distance. "I just wanted to watch the news."

Ziva hit the volume button on the remote and turned it up before tossing it back on the desk beside her. Tony looked between them and wondered what had happened in the ten minutes he'd been out of the room. Zapata had been ogling her without shame when they'd arrived, and he could only assume that the cretin had made a pass at her. A feeling of protectiveness filled him as he aimed a filthy look at Zapata, but he held his tongue. Ziva was no vulnerable, helpless girl who needed him to take the guy out into the hallway and beat him up. She was more than capable of handling the douchebag's advances on her own. Trying to do it for her would only get Zapata _and_ Tony beaten up.

Even still, he couldn't resist putting a possessive hand on Ziva's shoulder to get her attention. "I'm going to try to dry off," he told her.

Ziva glanced at the hand, but just nodded and didn't mention it. "Good," she said. "Because you smell like wet dog."

As he walked away, Tony smiled to himself with affection. _Ladies and gentleman, your queen of tact: Ms Ziva David. _

* * *

**I hope that went some way towards dulling some of the ouchies from Double Blind. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I've decided to burn through the rest of this one. A chapter every other day until the story ends. Let's get this over with, shall we?  
Thanks to those of you who have been reviewing. I appreciate your support.**

* * *

_Thursday, 1325_

"And so the farmer goes, 'But I haven't _got_ a daughter!'"

Luis Zapata erupted in laughter at the punch line to his own joke and thumped his hand against the table. As tears rolled down his cheeks, Tony and Ziva sat across from him in stone cold silence, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. They'd headed down to the grill attached to the motel half an hour ago when Zapata's personality had become too much to handle within the confines of the small motel room. But the larger space only gave him more room to fill with his noise, bad jokes and overall grossness. Tony had been hoping that his general irritation with the day would be tempered when a thick slab of five-dollar t-bone was put in front of him, and it had been. Briefly. Then Zapata had gone on a rant about red meat being pumped full of cancer-creating hormones by the Government, and Tony had almost stabbed him with his steak knife.

As Luis regained control of himself, Tony tuned him out and turned to Ziva. "So, you didn't say how old Benjamin was," he said, referring to the boy she'd lost her virginity to.

Ziva took a moment to catch on. "Oh. Seventeen."

Tony was about to comment on the lack of scandal in the age difference when Zapata jumped in.

"Who's Benjamin?"

Tony tightened his grip on his steak knife, but Ziva replied without missing a beat.

"My son," she said, and added a proud smile for effect.

Zapata's eyes widened, and Tony could see his interest in Ziva fading away. "You've got a 17-year-old son?"

"And a ten-year-old," Ziva added, nodding. "Plus two daughters, eight and five."

There were few things Tony enjoyed more than when Ziva got playful, and the fact that she was doing it to mess with the pain in the ass that was Zapata made it all the sweeter. He let go of his smile, but turned it so that it would look to Zapata as if he was simply happy for Ziva.

Zapata wasn't happy for her. "You've got _four_ kids?"

Ziva nodded. "They're wonderful. I am so lucky."

Zapata eyed her suspiciously. "You're tellin' me that someone with a body as slammin' as yours has had four kids? I don't think so."

Ziva leaned back in her seat and put her hands on the hem of her t-shirt and the waist of her jeans, as if preparing to bare her midriff. "Would you like to see my C-section scar?"

"No!" Zapata cried, and held his hand out to stop her. "I believe you."

Ziva put her hands back on the table and continued to make him squirm. "I delivered my first two vaginally, but my first daughter?" She shook her head and looked at Tony with a chuckle. "I love her, but she has the biggest head. After I had her I swore the next would come out by Cesarean."

"That's great," Zapata said in a tone that invited no further information. He pushed his chair back and got to his feet. "Excuse me. I gotta visit the whiz palace."

Ziva gave him a little wave as he walked away, and once he disappeared into the bathroom she picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of steak. "That was a lot of fun," she told Tony.

Tony finally let himself laugh out loud. "Have I ever told you that your daughter with the big head is my favorite of all your kids?"

Ziva snorted. "That figures. She is the troublemaker." She shoved a piece of steak into her mouth.

He gestured at her with his knife. "How does that cancer steak taste?"

She swallowed and reached for her water glass. "Really good. How close are you to stabbing him?"

"Pretty close."

She sipped her water. "Well, if the Rapture comes on Saturday you might get away with it."

He smirked and finished the last bite of his steak. "Okay. I've been thinking about this during the last half hour of jokes that even I find offensive, and I've come around to the idea of just locking him in his room until morning. He's got a TV to keep him company. He's got a bathroom and water. We can throw a packet of pretzels in there with him. Would it be so bad?"

Ziva crossed her legs and inadvertently nudged his shin with her toe. "I have experienced worse hospitality in my father's house," she said. "Can you imagine how obnoxious he must be when he is drunk if this is him sober?"

Tony shook his head. "What was the ten feet rule thing about?"

She rolled her eyes but shook her head. "Nothing. He propositioned me."

"Classy guy."

"Despite that, I think it would be unnecessarily cruel to lock him in his room right now," Ziva said. "Let's stay here a while. Leave him at the table to talk to some of those other shifty-looking men over there and we can play some pool."

Tony's eyes drifted to the lone pool table that was currently occupied by some of the aforementioned shifty-looking men. "I don't think they're going to give up that table without a fight."

Ziva smiled as if he'd just said the magic words. "Then the day is finally looking up."

…

McGee called Tony back just as Ziva was lining up her final shot against a shifty-looking pool-player that would win her and Tony the table for a few games. She paused before she took her shot and aimed a mild glare at Tony for breaking her concentration, and Tony sent her an apologetic look before he answered and took a few steps back from the table.

"Yeah, DiNozzo."

"It wasn't easy," McGee told him, "but I've finally managed to get you all seats on United at 0715 tomorrow morning."

"Hey!" Tony said cheerfully. "Good job, McGee. Get yourself a probie snack on me."

"Did you mention your delay to Gibbs yet?"

"Uh, no. Why?"

"He's been dumping files on your desk all day."

Tony grimaced, but then quickly smiled again when Ziva took her shot and won the game. "Nice going!" he called to her, and then took a few steps over to high five her.

"What?" McGee asked.

"I'm talking to Ziva."

"What are you doing?"

"Playing pool against some locals," he said, and smiled at the shifty-looking guys who shuffled off to the other end of the room.

"What the hell?" McGee protested. "You're slacking off while I'm working? And doing jobs for you?"

"I can't do filing from here, probie," Tony pointed out. "And we're not slacking off. We're babysitting a reject from _Studs_."

"From what?"

"_Studs_," Tony repeated, feeling the age gap. "It was a dating show back in the 80s…It doesn't matter. We're looking after this guy and his personality isn't making it easy."

Ziva racked up the pool balls and twirled a cue at him. Tony took it from her with a nod.

"McGee got us on United at 0715," he told her.

"Thank you, McGee," she called out.

"Have a great time with your pool and your hurricane," McGee said.

"See you tomorrow." Tony hung up and slipped his phone back into his pocket before turning to Ziva. "All right, David. Let's do this."

Ziva prowled around to the other side of the table, watching him with predatory eyes that sent a welcome shiver up his spine. If only her interest wasn't completely aimed at the game.

"What are we playing for?"

He raised his eyebrows challengingly. "You want to put a wager on it?"

"I do not know," she replied. "Does 'wager' mean money?"

He sighed. "Yes, Ziva," he replied patiently.

"Then yes, I do."

He stood directly across the table from her, looked her up and down and smirked. "How about something a little more interesting?"

Her eyes barely narrowed, but he got the warning loud and clear. "I am not playing strip pool with these people here."

_With these people here_, he repeated in his head. So if 'these people' weren't there…He shook his head, filed the thought away to think about later, and got back on track. "I'm talking about playing for information."

Ziva snorted. "What information do I have that you do not?" she asked, and then immediately caught on. "Oh, you mean about _me_."

He grinned. "Yes. Your typhoon story got me thinking."

"About?"

"About the end of the world," he said.

Ziva heaved a heavy sigh. "Tony, I am beginning to worry that you are putting too much stock in what crazy doomsday people are saying."

He held his hand up in defense. "I'm not talking doomsday, exactly. I'm just thinking about all the things that make up Ziva David that I don't know about, and will never know about if a flood comes through here and kills us all."

Ziva reached for the chalk and shook her head. "Before this morning you were Mr Optimistic," she said. "But one little newspaper report makes you Mr Anxious."

"No, I'm Mr Inquisitive," he corrected. "We've been partners for nearly eight years, you know. You can trust me with an insignificant but juicy detail about yourself."

She watched him as she chalked the tip of her cue and seemed to be weighing it up. "One detail?"

"For each time you miss a shot," he said.

Ziva let out a short, obnoxious laugh. "Fine. I doubt I will need to think of anything to share."

He leaned over the table with his right hand extended. "So, agreed?"

Ziva shook his hand. "Agreed," she said, and then pulled Tony back when he started to pull away. "And every time you miss a shot, you must share something _juicy_ about you."

The thing was, Tony seriously didn't have a problem with that. He might embarrass himself once or twice, but it would be worth whatever nugget of information he got out of her. "Agreed," he said.

They shook on it again, and then Tony stepped away from the table and gestured for her to start. "Ladies first."

Ziva didn't move, but gestured at the head of the table with her chin. "Okay. Go ahead."

She waited until Tony gave her his bitch smile, and then headed to the end of the table and prepared to break. Tony took a moment to glace at the other end of the room to make sure Zapata was still there. He was sitting at a table with the older guy who had taken their orders when they walked in. Tony suspected he was Betty's husband. The two of them were talking with their hands a lot, and Tony got the feeling they'd be there for a while.

"By the way," Ziva said, drawing his attention back to her as she bent over the pool table and gave him a partially obstructed view down her top. He'd put real money on her doing that on purpose. "I Googled what body shots are." She brought the pool cue back and then drove it forward, sending the balls scattering with a loud _crack_. Two balls sank, and she moved around the table for her next shot.

"And now you're wishing that they made us brace for landing?"

She sent him another predatory look, but this one _wasn't_ about the game. "If I want to lick you, Tony, I will not wait for tequila."

Tony recalled a time in the middle of a sexual harassment seminar when she had done just that, but even still he didn't quite believe her. He'd lost count of how many times he'd wanted to lick her, and he knew the feeling was mutual. But aside from that one incident that wasn't even about sex, she hadn't. And there had been opportunity. For both of them.

That didn't diminish his enjoyment of her taunt, though. "If you're using distraction as a tactic to put me off my game and win, you might want to wait until it's my turn."

Ziva smiled and took another shot. She sank one ball and moved around the table again to stand beside him. "I do not need to resort to distraction to win this game. I have been playing since I was tall enough to reach the table."

"My dad had a pool table in the den when I was growing up," he told her as she leaned over the table again. "And when I was in military school I used to win all the tournaments."

Ziva sank another shot and looked up at him with curious amusement. "Until you present photographic evidence or academic transcripts of your time in military school, I refuse to believe you attended."

"Why? Because I'm not Mr Short Back and Sides?" he challenged. "Or because I'd prefer to have some kind of harness when I'm climbing up a cliff, unlike some people."

She shrugged. "It is more your approach to authority. You push boundaries until you are reprimanded. Most military types know where the line is and do not approach it."

Tony shrugged back at her. "What can I say? I'm the wildcard." Ziva lifted her eyebrows in agreement and lined up another shot as he explained himself. "I just think that if you push the boundary, you might find something useful on the other side."

"You do have a knack for uncovering the unexpected," she said, and then missed her shot. She scowled at the ball that had refused to sink, and then looked up at Tony's smiling face. "A juicy detail?"

"It can be about anything," he told her.

Ziva eyed him—predator on the prowl again—and then stepped into his personal space and tilted her face up to his. "Actually, there is something I have been meaning to tell you," she said, lowering her voice.

Tony stood his ground and didn't buy into her sexy act. "Yeah?"

She leaned in just a little more. "The truth is…I only know six ways to kill with a paperclip." She managed to keep her straight face until his cracked, and then she moved back to an appropriate distance with a proud smile.

Tony shook his head at her and played along. "You lying scumbag," he deadpanned.

Ziva spread her hands, as if refusing to take the blame for her dishonesty, and walked around to the other side of the table. Tony didn't make a move to take his shot. He just kept looking at her expectantly. Ziva looked back at him and, after a few moments of silence when it became clear that he wouldn't resume play until she gave him something _real_ and juicy, her shoulders slumped and she looked heavenward for inspiration.

"All right. How about…when I was a young child I thought that women gave birth to girls, and men gave birth to boys."

The admission made Tony burst out laughing and clutch at his stomach. It was adorable and stupid and proof positive that although his partner might sometimes act like a superhero or an alien, she'd started out life just like everyone else: totally confused.

Ziva watched him with a small but amused smile as he got over it, composed himself, and then lined up to take his shot.

"That was perfect," he assured her, and then fired off and sank two balls in one go.

"It made sense in my head at the time," she told him.

Tony leaned over the table to line up another shot, but waited to take it while the wind outside picked up considerably and something solid hit the side of the restaurant. His eyes scanned the room to double check that they were all still safe and sound, and then he sank another ball.

"And I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down," he muttered.

Ziva clicked her fingers and pointed at him. "_Three Little Pigs!_"

He chuckled at her excitement over understanding the reference. "Yeah. You didn't have nursery rhymes in Israel?"

"Of course," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "But I did not read them in English."

"Whatever, smarty pants," he said, and sank two more balls. "What language did you read _Three Little Pigs_ to your kids in?"

Ziva smiled and looked over at Zapata. "I suppose it was nice that he thought I looked too good to have had four children."

Tony paused, his pool cue back and ready to strike, and looked up at her in disbelief. "Are you seriously that hard up for a compliment that you're softening towards Rumpelstiltskin?"

"No," she said, but her tone wasn't entirely convincing.

He let his eyes fall to take in her body. "Am I not ogling you enough lately?"

Ziva rolled her eyes again and signed, and leant her hip against the table. "Calling me sweetcheeks is not a compliment, Tony," she told him, and then held up her hand to stop the comment that she knew was coming her way. "And I am not asking you to think of something better to replace it. Thank you."

Tony bit the inside of his cheek as he tried to work out how to respond. In the end he decided to take her at her word and stay silent. He took his shot but missed, and braced his hand on the side of the table. "Juicy detail," he repeated.

She smiled expectantly as she wandered over to the position from which to take her next shot. "Something at least as stupid as mine."

He scratched his chin with the tip of his pool cue, and then smirked. "Okay. When I was very young, I thought that the clouds in the sky were stationary, and that they only looked like they were moving because the earth was rotating."

Ziva smiled and nodded, indicating the story was up to par, and then lined up her shot. "That is very cute. And silly."

"Science wasn't my best subject."

"Certainly not if you are starting to believe that doomsday is near," she shot in, and then sank one of her balls. "What subjects were you good at?"

"Sports."

"Of course," she muttered to herself, as if she should have guessed that. "How many sports did you play?"

"A lot," he said. "Basketball, football and baseball were the big three. But I also played hockey and volleyball. Ran track for a bit, but I wasn't very good at it."

"What about academic subjects?"

"I was okay at English," he said, and was surprised when she nodded as though she'd expected that. "Spanish. Music."

Ziva sank her sixth ball and straightened to look at him over the table. "Piano and guitar."

"Yeah. What did you play?"

"Just piano."

He smiled triumphantly. "So I got one up on you."

She narrowed her eyes briefly and moved to the end of the table. "Perhaps. But I am about to win this game."

Tony frowned and looked down at the table. There were only four balls left: two of his, the eight ball and the cue ball. "Hunh," he grunted.

"If I win," she said as she flicked her eyes from his head to his toes, "you must play me something when we return home."

He smiled and went for the easy joke. "I got my iPod with me, Ziva. I can play you anything you want right now."

Ziva twirled her pool cue between her hands and then gently poked him in the side with the tip of it. "On the piano," she elaborated.

Tony flexed his fingers instinctively at the memory of being rapped over the knuckles by Mrs Kowalski every time he hit a wrong note. She hadn't been his piano teacher since he was six, and he'd certainly found much more agreeable tutors over the years. He'd even planned to marry one of them once upon a time. But every time he thought about playing the piano, it was always Mrs Kowalski's angry red face and wooden ruler he thought of first.

"Okay," he said cautiously. "But you're not allowed to hit me if I make a mistake."

Ziva frowned at him. "Did Wendy used to hit you when you made a mistake?"

He shook his head quickly. "No. She was more rewards oriented." He shot her a sidelong look. "If you want to reward me the same way she did, I wouldn't object."

She held his gaze for a few long seconds, and Tony began to think that he'd pushed things too far. He was formulating a get-out-of-jail-free apology when the corner of Ziva's mouth curled upwards and she looked him up and down with interest.

"Perhaps," she said as she leaned over the table and aimed for the eight ball, "if there are still enough hours left before the world ends, then I will."

And with that, she sank her shot and won the game.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thursday, 1956_

"Look, I'm sorry, boss. But there's nothing I can do. I don't have control over the weather, or over airports."

Ziva winced at her partner from her seat in front of the television. Tony had been on the phone to Gibbs for just one minute, but if he was already having to resort to _It's in God's hands now_, then she had to suspect that Gibbs wasn't taking news of their delayed return very well.

"They expect the storm to pass tonight and the airport to open in the morning," Tony went on, pausing only to thump his head back against the wall. "McGee's got us on a flight after 0700. We'll be back before lunch."

Zapata leaned towards Ziva, but the queen-sized bed between them kept him at an appropriate distance. "Hey. When he says _boss_, is that, like, his nickname for the wife?"

Ziva narrowed her eyes as she looked over at him. After lunch, Zapata had removed his coat and waistcoat and rolled up his sleeves to reveal forearms so hairy that they would bring shame to a gorilla. Every time he leaned closer to her, Ziva felt the urge to grab the knife tucked into her waistband and start shaving him.

"No," she said, mustering all the distaste she could and delivering it in that one word. "It is his nickname for our _boss_."

"He apologizes like it's his wife, is all," Zapata said.

"I am certain their relationship is not romantic," she said, and then looked back at Tony when his tone turned from defensive to apologetic.

"My report? Well, I almost finished it, but then Vance interrupted," Tony said. He banged his head back against the wall again. "You'll have it by the end of tomorrow."

Ziva sent him a look of sympathy, and Tony responded with a roll of his eyes.

"Okay, I'll—" Tony started, and then pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up. Ziva assumed Gibbs had disconnected first.

"That sounded like it went well," she drawled.

Tony jammed his phone back into his pocket and came towards her. "I'm beginning to wish I'd shot that car more than once," he said. "Would've caused me the same pain."

"Why'd you shoot up a car?" Zapata asked. "You get cut off? You from L.A.?"

"The driver asked me a bunch of annoying questions," Tony shot at him.

Zapata leaned back and away from them again. Tony sat on the other side of the bed, in line with Ziva, and checked out the ongoing coverage of the storm on the local news channel. A reporter in a big red waterproof jacket (that was unlikely to be waterproof by this point) was leaning in to the wind and gesturing wildly at the big, ugly grey waves swallowing up the sand and boardwalk.

"Definitely not going to the beach," he said.

Ziva bumped his leg with the toe of her boot. "We can raid the mini-bar," she offered. "I will make you a Long Island iced tea."

"The kind where you just throw everything you have into a glass?" He made a face. "Sounds delightful, but I'll probably stick with straight tequila."

"Hey, if I have to stay dry, so do you guys," Zapata cut in, either not understanding or not caring that the agents' lowered voiced meant that he wasn't part of the conversation. "It's no fun being the sober one at a party."

Tony sent a dismissive look over his shoulder. "Oh, don't worry. We'll take our party elsewhere and you can have this place to yourself."

"After we raid your mini-bar," Ziva added, twirling one tight curl around her finger.

Zapata looked taken aback. "Wait, what? You're leaving me all alone here tonight?"

"Yes," Ziva said quickly.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark," Tony said.

"It's _boring_ being by yourself!" Zapata whined. "Especially when there are better things to look at." He leered at Ziva again. "I decided I don't care about the kids or the baby scars. You're still slammin', girl."

"You keep looking at her like that she's going to remove your eyeballs," Tony warned him.

"Amongst other things," Ziva continued.

"I'm paying you a compliment!" Zapata argued. "You know, kids usually ruin women's bodies, but you've kept it together. I think that's great. And I bet you don't hear that often."

Ziva had enough. "Okay," she said, rising to her feet. Zapata scrambled back, and even Tony leaned out of her way in case she decided to launch a physical attack on their odious companion. But she just stepped past Tony and stomped towards the door. "I will be in our room."

Tony watched her swing the door open, and the only thing that prevented her from slamming it with as much force as the storm outside was the hydraulic door closer. He looked back at Zapata and raised an eyebrow, demanding contrition. Zapata looked back at him blankly.

"What?"

"Do you think about what you say before you open your mouth?" Tony asked, repeating the question that had been asked of him so many times in his life. But not for a long time, now.

"I was being nice!"

Tony started wondering if the guy had some kind of brain injury. "Is that how you always talk to women?"

"What's wrong with it?" Zapata asked. "It's not like I'd ever get a chick like her. I'm just havin' fun."

"But do you get that you're making her uncomfortable?" Tony asked.

"Ah, come on," Zapata said, waving his hand dismissively. "You've stared at her ass way more than me today, and she's not threatening to remove your beans." Suddenly, his eyebrows went up and Tony could just picture the light bulb above his head going off. "Wait, are you hittin' that? Cuz she didn't answer when I asked if you were her boyfriend. Am I cuttin' your grass here?"

Tony couldn't help laughing at the idea that his partner might be stolen away by this guy. "No. I don't think you're in any danger of doing that," he said, and stood up. He headed over to the mini-bar and started pulling out everything alcoholic.

"Come on!" Zapata whined. "You gotta leave me with something!"

"I got strict orders, Zapata," Tony said. "I gotta deliver you sober. And I'm not risking the wrath of our director over you." He stuffed four small bottles of spirits into his coat pocket, and held two bottles of beer in his left hand. From one of his other pockets he withdrew one of his business cards, and then flicked it onto the foot of the bed. "You get in trouble, call my cell."

Zapata opened his mouth, but Tony held up a hand to stop his obvious question.

"No, you can't have Agent David's number," he said firmly. "Stay here, don't go out. I mean it. If you get out, we're going to find you. And we're not going to be very nice when we do."

Zapata picked up Tony's card and glanced at it. "You're not very nice now."

"Right," Tony said. "So just imagine what you'll face if you piss us off."

Zapata held up his hand. "Okay, I'll stay put. And I won't interrupt your time with your secret girlfriend unless I'm on fire."

Tony paused with his hand on the doorknob. "She's not my secret girlfriend."

Zapata waggled his eyebrows. "So, it's out in the open?"

He didn't want to answer that, so Tony just sighed, rolled his eyes and left the room.

…

As soon as she reached the room she and Tony would be sharing that night, Ziva stripped off her still-damp t-shirt and hung it over the shower rail. As someone who had grown up in the desert, the intense humidity was making her skin itch. And so was Zapata. She entertained the thought of having a shower, but what she really wanted more than anything right now was to feel dry.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Ziva scraped her wild curls up into a messy bun on top of her head. She took a face towel and ran it under the faucet, then dragged it over her face, the back of her neck, her chest and arms. She rinsed it out, hung it up beside her t-shirt, then dried herself off with a bath towel. For a few minutes at least, she would feel a little better.

She left the bathroom and plucked at the cotton camisole she was still wearing in an attempt to get some airflow onto her stomach and back. She headed for the air conditioning unit mounted to the wall above the bed and fiddled with it until she got it to turn on and blow some cool, dry air into the room. Then, she went to the sliding doors that opened onto the balcony to take a look at the storm situation.

Those huge dark clouds that had welcomed them to Miami were still hanging around, and they were still dumping torrential rain onto the buildings and streets around the hotel. She could see that the gutters in the streets were overflowing, and shallow but fast-moving rivers were racing down the curbs. Trees were still bending in the wind and debris was being picked up and thrown about with abandon. The wind didn't seem as bad in this room as it had in Zapata's, most likely because his window opened into an alley that acted like a wind tunnel, whereas Ziva's overlooked six lanes of traffic.

She craned her neck to see down the street to where she could just make out flashing red and blue lights. In the blur of the rain, she couldn't quite work out what was going on. If she had to guess she would have said it was a car accident or a road closure. But, as a large piece of plastic which Ziva thought might have been a 'for sale' sign flew past her window and made her jump in fright, she conceded that in this weather, the police would probably have to deal with just about anything.

There was a knock on the door, and Ziva went over to look through the peephole. Seeing only her partner and not the cretin they'd be escorting back to D.C. tomorrow, Ziva pulled open the door and then stepped away to let him in.

"You did not get sick of him already, did you?" she asked.

Tony gave her a knowing look before closing the door and turning every lock it had. "That guy's got the self-awareness of a Kardashian," he muttered. He stopped by the mini-bar to put the two beer bottles he'd taken from Zapata inside. "He did apologize for trying to cut my grass, though." He threw her a smile, but Ziva just frowned.

"What does that mean? Do you need a gardener?"

Tony's grin faltered. "Uh, never mind. I'll explain it when the world ends." He held up the tiny bottles of tequila he'd also taken from Zapata. "It looks like we're in for the night. Body shots?" He waggled his eyebrows.

Ziva smirked. "I think we are missing a lemon."

Tony shrugged, unfazed. "Truncated body shots."

Her smirk turned a little more predatory. She liked teasing him. "I told you, Tony. I will lick you at my leisure." She watched him swallow at that, but he played it light.

"Wow. Now I have an idea of how you must feel when Zapata talks to you."

She took a few steps over to him so that they were both crammed into the tiny kitchenette with just a few inches between them. "I would hope you would not find me as repulsive as I find him," she said, leaning her head to the side in question.

Tony's eyes flicked to her neck, then her mouth, and back to her eyes. "Doubtful," he replied tightly. "You're certainly not as hairy."

Ziva chuckled and returned to the window. While she rearranged the furniture in front of the balcony doors, Tony took off his jacket and then turned on the TV that hung on the wall across from the bed. The storm coverage continued on the local news, but Tony flicked around the channels for something else.

"Are you looking for a second opinion?" she asked with a small, teasing smile.

Tony smirked. "While I'm sure there are news organizations out there who would argue with the reality outside, I'm actually just looking for a distraction to…"

When he trailed off, Ziva looked over her shoulder at the TV to see what had captured his attention. Her money was on basketball, cheerleaders or a black and white movie. But the flat screen showed a bright blue sky over deep red earth and what, at first glance, looked like a swarm of bees circling the scrub and boab trees. The Tony DiNozzo she knew did not have a keen interest in arboriculture, so she had to ask for an explanation.

"What are you watching?"

Tony pointed the remote at the TV to turn up the volume, and left his arm outstretched as he looked at her with the same vaguely freaked-out expression he had that morning. "I'm watching a plague of locusts descend on some place in…I don't even know where. But a _plague of locusts_, Ziva!"

She knew he couldn't be serious about this. In addition to his lack of interest in arboriculture, Tony had never been a doomsday prepper. But just to be safe, Ziva walked over to him, took the remote out of his hand and turned the TV off. "You are beginning to worry yourself," she said calmly, and then swatted his arm with the remote before tossing it on the bed. "Stop looking for disaster where there is none."

Her words were punctuated by a deafening crack of thunder that made both of them jump in alarm. Tony lifted one eyebrow at her, as if God had just made his point for him. Ziva shook her head and returned to the window.

"It's the end of days," he stage-whispered, and now she knew he was definitely pulling her leg.

"Then perhaps we will get more sleep afterwards," she muttered. She took a seat in one of the chairs she had moved to face the balcony doors and took off her boots and socks before resting one foot on the edge of the wooden coffee table. She rolled up the still-damp cuff of her jeans to her knee, and repeated the process with the other leg. This humidity would kill her. If the Rapture did not get her first.

She heard Tony moving behind her, and then he passed her a bottle of chilled water from the fridge over her shoulder. She threw a smile of thanks at him as she took it, and Tony settled down in the chair beside her. He propped his feet up beside hers.

"So I guess you want to watch this instead," he said, gesturing at the storm. "It's okay, I guess. I'm not usually a big fan of the disaster movie genre. At least, not the modern disaster movie. The ones from the 70s? That's where it's at. _The Towering Inferno_. Steve McQueen, Ziva. So classy."

Ziva let him talk. Past experience had taught her not to interrupt him when he was thinking about 'the king of cool'.

"I remember after I saw that movie I was so scared of those glass elevators on the side of buildings," he said. "My dad had a friend in New York who worked in a building with one of those. The first time he took me up there I was practically glued to the doors."

Lightning flashed across the sky—brighter now that the sun was going down—and Ziva had a movie memory of her own.

"What was that movie where that mute muscle man carried that transvestite up the radio tower?"

Tony stared at her for a moment and then frowned. "You talking about _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_?"

"Was it a musical?"

"Yeah. Early Susan Sarandon."

"I do not know who she is."

"_Thelma and Louise_," Tony said.

"Where they drive off a cliff?"

"Yeah."

Ziva shook her head. "I do not know if she was in the movie with the muscle man and the transvestite."

"She was Janet."

Ziva shrugged and sipped her water.

"When did you watch _Rocky Horror_?" he asked.

Ziva let her head fall back against the chair and her eyes went to the ceiling as she tried to remember. "Several years ago. Someone took me on a date. Everyone in the theatre kept screaming out at the screen."

Tony gave her a lascivious look that had no heat behind it. "Did you scream things out later?"

She pursed her lips as she looked back at him and tried to remember. "I doubt it. I cannot even remember the man."

Tony clicked his tongue. "You just love them then leave them," he gently accused.

"Not for a while now," she replied.

He lifted his eyebrows in acknowledgement. "None of us have," he said. "But if you change your mind on our little friend—"

"I cannot ever imagine being that desperate for the touch of another human being that I would consider it," she cut in, then shuddered for effect.

"Even if it was your last day on earth?"

She looked at him, half considering it and half depressed. "Is he really my only option?"

Tony shook his head firmly. "No. Not by a long shot."

She waved her hand at herself. "I do not normally look this messy and sweaty," she continued. "I can look better than this. I could do better than him."

"I'm not arguing the point," Tony replied quickly. "I agree."

She felt her insecurity die down, but the silence that followed made her feel awkward. She crossed her arms and sipped her water, and trained her eyes on the thunderclouds and lightning. Tony shifted in his seat and then broke the silence.

"Okay. Pretend the world is going to end."

"Tony," she sighed.

"No, just for fun."

She swung her head around to look at him, incredulous. "It is fun to imagine it is my last day on earth?"

He looked at her pleadingly. "No, of course it would be horrible," he said swiftly. "But I'm looking for a larger philosophical discussion here about hopes and regrets."

She rubbed her head. "Oh, God."

"Pretend you know that the world is going to end in three days," he said, not giving up. "What would you spend your time doing?"

Her answer seemed important to him, so Ziva stopped resisting the conversation and instead took a few moments to think. She was slightly disappointed with herself when she could not think of anything particularly profound, and shrugged apologetically.

"The same thing most people would do," she said. "I would spend my time with the people I love."

Tony nodded, finding the answer acceptable. But he had to push it. For fun and philosophy. "Would you spill the secrets that you might've kept from them?"

She pursed her lips as she wondered if he was getting at any secret in particular. But lately—for at least the last year—she had been a great deal more open with him than she had in the past. _Post-elevator Tony and Ziva_ didn't keep as many secrets as they used to. But there were still one or two she kept for protection. And many, many more she kept from other people.

"That depends on the secret," she finally said.

Tony flashed a smile. "How many are you keeping?" he asked.

She didn't feel that the comment was aimed at their relationship, so she felt confident in smiling back. "Not too many." She thought a little more about the question, and explained her previous answer. "I would not divulge a secret that might hurt someone. I do not think there would be a point to it. Why leave someone I love with sad or angry thoughts in the moments before they die?"

Tony nodded thoughtfully. "So, you'd protect their conscience at the expense of your own."

She waited out another crack of thunder before replying. "Yes. I suppose. Would you?"

Tony leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. "Probably. I can see the appeal in going to meet my maker with a clear conscience. But really, in the end, I don't think it really matters."

"No."

Silence fell between them, and Ziva found herself thinking a little too hard about all the secrets she kept that had the potential to hurt people. People she loved and people who had become enemies. Keeping hurtful secrets from people she loved, she decided, was an act of love for them. Keeping them from her enemies? Well, it was possible that it was an act of love or at least respect for the life she had now. Because if she spilled those secrets, surely she could be dragged back into the life she had before NCIS. Espionage. Danger. Always a target on her back that kept her creeping around in the shadows. No, she was done with that. She'd been done with that officially for a day over two years now. Any secret that could draw her back into the web would go to her grave with her.

"Hey," Tony said as he gently swiped at her shin. "What about the other secrets? The ones that wouldn't hurt anyone?"

She smiled for him again. "It depends on the secret," she repeated. "If I thought there was a chance it would bring me closer to someone, then yes, I would probably tell them."

Tony's light smile turned heavier, and she felt her heartbeat speed up. She knew what he was thinking, and wondered how she'd let herself walk into it. "If you think there's a good chance that a secret would bring you closer to someone," he said, "then why would you wait until the end of the world to tell them?"

It was a good question, but one to which Ziva didn't have the answer. Why didn't she just tell him the secrets she kept that would bring them together? Why didn't _he_ tell her? There really was no good answer except fear of the unknown.

"Wouldn't you do the same thing?" she asked, trying not to sound like she was accusing him.

Tony's eyes drifted out the window for a few moments while he gathered his thoughts, before swinging back to her. "I'd like to think I have the guts to act before the end," he said with the hint of a self-deprecating smile. "You know what I'd do? I'd tell Dad that we're okay. I'd tell McGee that I'm glad he became my annoying little brother. I'd tell Ducky that he filled my head with information that comes in handy at the most unexpected times."

Ziva chuckled at the sentiment that she thought they probably all shared.

Tony grinned before continuing. "I'd tell Abby she's been a fierce friend who's always been good at lifting my mood. And I'd tell Gibbs…" He paused, and Ziva noted the emotion that crossed his face suddenly and left again just as quickly. "Well, I'd tell him that he taught me how to be a man."

Ziva felt an unexpected lump in her throat at the sincerity he displayed. And the honesty. She actually had no doubt that if Tony found out he only had days to live, he would make the rounds to tell his friends what they meant to him. In his own, special Tony way.

She swallowed the lump and gave him a coy smile that was meant to tease. "And what would you tell me, Tony?"

He looked at her all too seriously for a few breathless moments before his mouth stretched into a lascivious grin. "That you were right and it _wasn't_ my knee."

A memory of something poking her in the thigh when the two of them took a literal tumble in the sheets soon after they'd met came to her. Ziva burst out laughing right before a bolt of lightning lit up the room and a loud bang made the building shake. Then the power went out.

It looked like they'd be spending the rest of the night in the dark.

* * *

_Friday, 0218_

It wasn't the storm that woke Ziva up, but the ability to move freely when she rolled over in bed. She had woken up a few times in the hours since she and Tony had stopped talking and gotten into bed, usually due to a crack of thunder, a gust of wind, or because either she or her partner had rolled into the other one when they'd moved. But this time, Ziva had rolled onto her side to face the middle of the bed and she hadn't crushed Tony's arm or kicked his shin. She should have been relieved. Instead, she felt nervous that the conditions were not as she had expected.

She opened her eyes and blinked through the darkness to work out what was going on. Tony was gone from his side of the bed, but she could make out his silhouette standing by the window. He'd pushed back one of the curtains and was leaning one shoulder against the windowpane while something outside held his attention.

"Tony? What's going on?" she asked, her voice croaky and uneven.

Tony turned his head to look at her, and the expression on his face made her uneasy. He looked freaked out and awestruck, and Ziva didn't like it one bit. "You should see this," he said.

Ziva rolled out of bed and onto her feet and then crossed to the window as fast as she could. Although all was quiet outside the room, she was still half expecting to see a hurricane swallowing up the streets of Miami, or perhaps an air strike or burning buildings like she had seen back in Israel. What she wasn't expecting to see was the full, blood red moon hanging large and low in the clear sky. She blinked as she tried to make sense of it.

"Hunh," she grunted.

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "Another sign of the impending Rapture."

Ziva clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, and she caught sight of Tony's smirk in the reflection of the glass. "It is not the Rapture," she said unnecessarily.

He bumped her nearly bare back with his fully bare shoulder. "Then you explain it."

Ziva stepped away from the enticing nakedness of his warm shoulder and went back to the bed. She crawled across the mattress and reached over to the nightstand against the far wall for her cell phone, and then sat back on her heels as she launched Google.

"Isn't there something in the Bible about the sky turning red with the blood of sinners?" Tony asked.

"That sounds very Old Testament," Ziva replied.

"Or maybe I heard it in a movie," Tony continued. "Sounds like it could be a movie."

"Partial eclipse," Ziva said.

Tony looked over at her. "Partial eclipse. Is that a _Twilight_ thing? I didn't see those movies. I couldn't get through the first book."

Ziva waved her cell phone at him and climbed off the bed. "The red moon is a result of a partial eclipse," she elaborated.

Tony took the cell phone off her and read the Wikipedia article. He made a dismissive face and handed it back to her. "It's still creepy," he insisted.

"Yes."

"And probably a partial eclipse is one of the things that happens right before the Rapture."

Ziva sighed. "Tony."

"I'm just trying to prepare you."

"Thank you," she deadpanned, and then headed back to bed. "It looks like the storm has cleared. We should not have a problem with our flight tomorrow."

"Not unless there's a backlog from delays," Tony said. "But I reckon we should flash our badges around if that happens. I don't want to spend all day in an airport."

"Sure. Are you going to stand there and watch the moon all night?"

"Not all night."

Ziva stretched out on her side of the bed and watched her partner carefully as he stared out the window. There was something going on in his head that was making his shoulders tense like that, but she didn't have a hope of working out what it was. "Are you all right?" she finally asked.

Tony looked over at her, his face showing apparent surprise at the question. "What?"

Ziva shrugged and tried not to look too confrontational. "It looks as though there is something on your mind," she said, before she held up a warning finger. "And it is not the Rapture."

Tony smirked at her taking the joke out of his mouth, but shook his head. "Nope. It should not come as a surprise to you, Ziva, that there is nothing going on in my head."

"I do not believe you," she challenged gently.

He smiled and looked back out of the window. "What if these really are our last days on earth?" he asked her.

"They are not," she sighed tiredly.

"But they could be."

"But they are _not_," she argued.

Tony paused, and when he spoke again there was a smirk in his voice that assured her he wasn't really worried about it. "You know what, Ziva? Your life really would have had more meaning if you'd slept with me."

With his back still to her, Ziva allowed herself to laugh silently. The first time he'd said that to her they'd been stuck in a shipping container. It was just a month after they'd posed as sexed-up married assassins, and barely three months since they'd met. They hadn't slept together on that operation, but they'd both been naked, horny and attracted to each other, and certain extremely enjoyable _things_ had happened. Those things had ended up being what convinced Ziva that Tony was not the immature frat boy she'd initially pegged him as, but was actually a good man who she could trust. Because the two of them had been partners now for eight years, and as far as Ziva knew he'd never breathed a word of what had happened in that hotel room to anyone.

"Well," she drawled, "perhaps if you had asked, I would have."

The comment made his head snap around so he could look at her. "All I had to do was ask?"

She was sure he was still mostly joking (well…maybe not), but Ziva couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't get her into a tight and troublesome place. She settled for smirking, and closing her eyes.

His taunting response came a few moments later, tinged with humor and just loud enough for her to hear it. "Chicken."

He was right, and she didn't argue.

A moment later she heard his knee click as he turned and walked back over to the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and his arm and leg brushed against her as he settled himself in and he got comfortable. Once he'd stopped moving, Ziva opened her eyes to look at him. He was on his back, his hands neatly stacked on his stomach and his head was turned slightly away from her as he continued to look out the window.

"Hey," she said softly, drawing his gaze. "You made a bucket list, yes? Last year."

Tony's nod came slowly, and he struck her as suddenly cautious. "Yeah, I did."

"What was on that list that you could accomplish in two days?"

He watched her without expression for a moment until a small smile of awareness broke over his face. "Not a whole lot," he admitted.

She knew he was a bit sensitive about it and his reasons behind making it, so she went easy on him. It wasn't as though it really was the end of the world. "I think it is good that you have it," she said. "It gives you things to reach for, yes? Fun things that you want to do. And it reminds you of other important things in life. It is not all about work."

Something in his eyes shifted, and she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She couldn't guess at what, exactly, he was thinking. All she knew was that the look he was giving her was making her heart hammer in her chest.

Finally, all he said was, "Yeah."

Ziva took a slow, steady breath and gave him a smile. "Well, since I am sure that the world will not end this weekend, perhaps you should resolve to crossing at least one of those things off the list by the end of the month."

The easiness returned to his smile. "Yeah, I'll try."

"Which one?"

His eyes fell to the mattress between them as he thought it over. "I could catch a shark."

Ziva sucked her lips into her mouth so that she wouldn't laugh. Tony watched her with his expression turning more and more deliberately pathetic until she couldn't help laughing. As soon as she cracked, Tony joined her.

"All right," she said, just accepting it. "Where do you think you could do that?"

"Well, the ocean would be my best bet," he said obviously. "But around D.C.? Maybe I should break into the aquarium after dark."

"Maybe you should pick another thing off the list."

"Visit Bogie's grave."

She frowned. "Who is Bogie?"

He looked fleetingly disappointed in her. "Humphrey Bogart, Ziva. You know, _Casablanca_?"

"Ah, of course. Where is he buried?"

"Near Los Angeles," he said, and then frowned. Ziva knew why.

"You do not like Los Angeles."

"Not as a general rule. I like the sun. I like the beach. I like the babes."

"You do not like the traffic," she said. "Or the air. Or the people, generally."

"I could cope with them for a weekend."

"Then you should go."

"Yeah." He paused, and then looked at her with curiosity. "What's on your bucket list?"

Ziva nuzzled further into her pillow. "I do not have one. I do not think I am a bucket list kind of person."

He lifted one hand off his stomach to nudge her. "But there's got to be something you've always wanted to do."

She thought about it, but being put on the spot made her mind go blank. "I suppose so, but I have not thought much about it."

He grinned and raised an eyebrow at her. "Guitar lessons," he said. "So you can catch up to my musical talent."

Ziva chuckled. She had never really considered that before, but it didn't sound too bad. She lifted her shoulder in agreement. "Perhaps."

"I'll teach you," he said. "It's only fair that you learn from a master."

"Oh, you are a _master_?" she challenged.

"Yes." He refused to hear further argument, so Ziva let it go.

"All right," she said. "Teach me after you play me something on the piano."

"Deal," Tony said. "Then I have to learn how to play the bass."

"Isn't it the same?"

"Nope."

"Oh."

He turned his head all the way to the side to look at her and then nudged her again, this time with his foot. "And after I've taught you how to do that, you can teach me the art of kung-fu."

That brought a full smile out of her, but she shook her head. "I do not know kung-fu."

He waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Whatever it is that you do. Teach me how to kill a man with a paperclip."

"Baby steps, Tony," she said. "We will begin with a stapler."

He gave her the thumbs up and turned his head back so that he was looking at the ceiling. Ziva let her eyes close and her body relax, and she entertained thoughts of spending some easy time with Tony that didn't have to do with work. They already did it, sometimes. They'd grab a drink after work, which sometimes turned into dinner and then maybe a movie. Sometimes he came to her place with a DVD and some takeout. Sometimes they went for a run or to the gym. And it was nice. It was always nice and often fun and at times it was comforting and relaxing. But it didn't always feel…personal. He could watch a movie with anyone. She could get anyone to spar with her at the gym. But spending some time teaching each other skills they'd learnt along the way felt a lot more private somehow. More important to their relationship. She had to admit that she liked the idea and the potential impact on the two of them.

Of course, that was only if they got around to it. They were busy people with demanding jobs and not a lot of down time for pursuing hobbies or learning new skills. They would have to make a concerted effort at it.

It was a nice thought to drift off to, though, and she let it warm her as she surrendered to the welcome pull of sleep. The last thing she was conscious of was Tony shifting again until his body was pressed against hers from shoulder to knee. And although the room was still hot and sticky from the storm, she wriggled a little into his side. If the Rapture arrived on the weekend, at least she would have this to go out on.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks again to those of you leaving lovely notes, and those who are continuing to read along. Yes, I still suck at responding to reviews. Just trying to stay consistent.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

_Friday, 0905_

"So, this guy's already lost a thumb, right? In some tragic bricklaying accident when he was just starting out. But he deals with it and gets on with life, and goes on to be this really talented builder and carpenter. It's an inspirational story. But _then_, just a few years ago? He was cutting up some planks of wood and he dropped the uh, the uh…what do you call them things? The drop saw? Yeah, he dropped a drop saw on the other thumb and cut it clean off. I mean, what're the odds?"

Stuck in the middle seat between Ziva and Zapata, Tony sighed heavily and pointedly. He knew Zapata was a nervous flyer—one that was prone to getting hammered if Vance was to be believed—and Tony had tried to be understanding of that. But the guy had not shut up since they'd cleared airport security in Miami over two hours ago, and Tony was about ready to stuff him in the toilets until they landed in D.C. He glanced at Ziva with the intent of drawing her into his suffering, but she was determinedly reading a magazine—the _same_ magazine she'd been reading since they took off—and ignoring Zapata. It was up to Tony to endure Zapata's retelling of an apparently inspiring article he'd read last night when they had left him on his own.

"But that doesn't stop him either," Zapata went on. "He goes to the doc and he says, 'Doc, I got no thumbs but I gotta work. I wanna work. I'm too young to retire. You gotta do something!' And the doc goes, 'Well, I can give you thumbs. But you gotta lose your toes.'"

Tony closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Over the drone of the plane's engines he was sure he heard a gulp of laughter from Ziva's side. He tilted his head to look at her again, and this time there was the barest hint of a smile stubbornly tugging at the corner of her mouth. The sight of her beginning to lose it was enough to push Tony to the edge as well, and he quickly looked away from her before he broke down in hysterics.

Oblivious to what he was doing to the two agents, Zapata continued his story. "So the doctors, they ended up taking off his big toes and putting them where his thumbs used to be. Now he's got two toe-thumbs, and he's gone back to being a carpenter. He's real good at it, too. He's won some national carpentry award. Except now he doesn't have big toes, his balance got all screwed up. He kept falling over and found it real hard to run. Oh! I forgot that part. He used to run marathons, but since they put his big toes on his thumbs he finds it hard to run. So he had to take up that, uh…what's that thing chicks do? It's like yoga but with a fancy name. Uh, pilates! He took up pilates, cuz that's supposed to be really good for your balance or something. He took up pilates and a year later he was running marathons again without any big toes. It's just this really inspirational story."

Tony could feel Ziva's shoulders shaking against his arm, and he quickly dropped his face into his hands so that Zapata wouldn't see him laughing at the absurdity. He let out a loud groan that was designed to tell Zapata he was being insufferable, and which made Ziva's shoulders shake again. When he was pretty sure he could keep a straight face he lifted his head again and clenched his jaw before looking at Zapata.

"Pilates?"

Zapata looked defensive. "It's like yoga. But different." He held Tony's gaze for a few silent seconds, and then lifted his chin. "It's inspirational," he repeated firmly. "We should all learn something from this guy and apply it to our daily lives."

"Core strength is really important," Tony said. "Got it."

"Life is always going to get you down," Zapata countered. "But there's always something you can do to make it better."

With such unexpected depth coming from him, Tony cut him some slack. "Yeah, that too."

"Unless you lose your wiener," Zapata added. "Then you might as well kill yourself."

The three of them spent a few moments in silence. Ziva had gotten control of herself again and Zapata looked introspective. But he hadn't kept his mouth shut all morning, and so Tony knew it wouldn't last. Half a minute later, he was proven right.

"What do you suppose they do if you cut off your wiener?" he mused aloud. "They gotta sew it back on, but what if it gets lost or somethin'? Like, if your chick goes crazy and cuts it off one night and throws it into the canal. What do the doctors do then? Do you just have to live with a stump? Cuz I couldn't live like that."

Just the idea of it made Tony's eyes water, so he changed the subject to something more palatable. "So, what is it that you do?" he asked, unable to even take a wild guess. "As a job, I mean."

Zapata shrugged. "Nothin'. I used to own this little bakery, right? Cupcakes and tarts, mostly. But since the economy took a dive I had to close down."

Tony could hardly believe his ears. He looked Zapata up and down again, as if there would be some clue on his person that Tony had missed that would explain Zapata's interest in making a career out of _cupcakes_.

"Sorry to hear that," Tony said, feeling a little bad for him.

Zapata shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I was over all that anyway. Early starts, you know? I been thinkin' of applying to the police academy lately. I want to do my civic duty."

"Oh, you're doing it now," Tony said quickly, hoping to discourage the guy from joining the ranks.

"You always been a cop?" Zapata asked as the plane started to shake slightly with turbulence.

Despite his best judgment telling him not to get involved, Tony answered him anyway. "Yeah."

"What about her?" He lifted his chin in Ziva's direction.

"No, she used to be an assassin," Tony replied, and leaned towards Zapata. "A_ good _one."

Zapata eyed Ziva suspiciously as she flipped through her magazine. She had regained her composure and once again was giving no indication that she was listening to them. Tony knew she was.

"Yeah?" Zapata asked cautiously. "I guess that's kind of hot."

The plane shook again, a little more violently this time, as it hit another pocket of turbulence. Zapata gripped the armrests tightly and his eyes widened.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's just turbulence," Tony said as the seatbelt sign came one. "Don't worry about it."

"I need a drink."

"It's nine in the morning."

"Something strong."

"You're not getting anything. Just relax."

The plane dropped a few feet and then quickly rose again, and this time a few people in the cabin gasped in surprise.

"Why are they screaming?" Zapata asked urgently, and started twisting in his seat to try to work out who had made the noise. "Can they see something we can't?"

"They're not screaming," Tony said with all the patience he could muster. "Nothing is going on."

That was when the captain came over the PA system. _"Folks, we're heading into some bad weather on our approach to Dulles. The seat belt sign is on, so please make sure you're sitting down and buckled in tight, and we'll get you on the ground as soon as we can."_

"Bad weather?" Zapata repeated. "No, I need a drink."

"You can't have a drink," Tony said firmly, and looked at Ziva. Her neck was stretched to the side as she looked out the window to beyond their current position. "What is it?" he asked her, dropping his voice considerably.

Ziva turned her head and looked up at him. "Another storm," she said. "Dark clouds. Lightning." She shrugged. "Nothing to worry about."

Tony sighed heavily. He wasn't looking forward to another washing machine landing like they'd had in Miami the previous day, but even more than that he wasn't looking forward to having to hold Zapata's hand through it. "Great."

Ziva glanced around him to Zapata, who was muttering nervously to himself. "Do you think he will throw up?"

"He'd better not," Tony replied. He nudged her with his elbow. "Even if they don't yell out _brace_ this time, we're doing tequila shots, Ziva."

The corner of her mouth curled slightly. "This morning?"

"No. When we celebrate your anniversary."

Ziva chuckled and looked back out the window. "I will look forward to that."

The plane dropped again and shuddered hard, and Zapata let out a high squeak.

"We're going down!" he cried.

"We're _not!_" Tony hissed as a few other passengers looked around, alarmed. "Just calm down."

"_I don't like flying!_"

He was drawing more attention from passengers, and Tony knew that he was likely to be making some of them a little more panicked than they usually would be. He closed his eyes and thought quickly about how to diffuse the situation before it got any worse.

"What's your favorite cupcake?" he ended up blurting out. The question drew not just Zapata's but also Ziva's gaze. But he pressed on. "You said you used to sell cupcakes, so you must like them, right? What's your favorite?"

"Key lime," Zapata said shakily. "With mint frosting."

Tony wasn't sure about mint frosting, but he could get behind the key lime part. "Interesting flavor. What else did you do?"

"I won an award once for my peanut butter kind," Zapata said. "I used to make 'em for my girlfriend, Shirley. She used to reward me for 'em too, you know?"

Tony tried not to picture it. "Where's Shirley now?"

"She moved to Tampa. Figures. She was too crazy for Miami." He paused, and as he leaned towards Tony to spill the beans on his ex, he barely registered the next round of turbulence that shook the plane. "You know what she did when she found out I'd been delivering cupcakes to another chick? She put a freakin' alligator in my car. An _alligator!_"

Tony hadn't heard of anyone taking revenge with a reptile before. And for the next half hour while the plane lurched and rose and dropped, Zapata ignored it and told Tony all about how _el lagarto_ had managed to mess up Zapata's _calzoncillos._

* * *

_Friday, 1123_

"_Temperatures in the hills reached a scorching 125 degrees today, and the air here is bone dry. The wildfire is being fanned by winds reaching up to 60, sometimes 70 miles an hour, carrying embers up to eight miles ahead of the fire front and starting spot fires that authorities are struggling to keep on top of."_

Tony turned from the ZNN report playing on the plasma outside Vance's office and looked pointedly at Ziva. "Wildfires," he whispered.

Ziva leaned in slightly. "I am going to ask Ducky to do a psychological evaluation on you," she whispered back.

Tony smirked, and then turned around again as the door to Vance's office swung open and the director stepped out.

"DiNozzo, David."

"Director," Tony replied, and then gestured at Zapata with a flourish. "Your witness. Your _sober_ witness."

Vance looked Zapata up and down, and though his polite smile stayed frozen in place his eyes spoke to how unimpressed he was with what he saw. "Mr Zapata," he said, and held out his hand. "I'm pleased that you finally made it."

Zapata gave Vance's hand a rough shake and gestured at Tony and Ziva with his thumb. "You didn't need to send Mr and Mrs Smith after me."

Vance's smile didn't budge. "Well. Given our false starts in getting you here in the past, I thought an escort might be in order." His eyes slid over to look between Tony and Ziva. "Thank you, agents. That'll be all."

They turned their backs on Vance and Zapata and headed out to the hallway.

"I miss the little guy already," Tony lamented.

"Well, just wait, Tony," Ziva purred. "I am sure that in about two minutes Vance will be happy to hand him back to you to babysit."

His eyes slid over to her. "I'm more of an 'absence makes the heart grow finder' kind of guy."

She smiled and led them onto the catwalk above the bullpen. Tony glanced down at the floor, and although Gibbs wasn't there he had to wonder how much grief the boss was going to give them about being gone for a day and a half. Tony had made it clear that the decision had been out of their control—orders from above followed by an act of God—but Gibbs was not really a rational kind of guy about this kind of stuff. Tony figured he'd be blatantly annoyed with them for at least the rest of today, and perhaps Monday and Tuesday. Their only saving grace was that they hadn't left in the middle of an active investigation. If that had been the case, there would have been no point in ever coming back. It would have been smarter for the two of them to go on the run and maybe live in a shack on the beach in Bermuda. Because if Gibbs ever caught sight of them again, he'd bury them alive under the floor in his basement.

Ziva led him down the stairs and around the corner back to the bullpen. He could see the top of McGee's head at his desk, but his attention was really focused on the _enormous_ bunch of white, yellow and pink flowers that was taking up almost all of the real estate on Ziva's desk. Ziva had obviously caught sight of the bouquet as well (he would be worried about her eyesight if she hadn't), and she slowed down to a stop at the mouth of the bullpen to just stare at it. Tony stopped behind her shoulder and leaned forward a bit to speak into her ear.

"I don't think Zapata is getting your _'no means no'_ message."

Ziva's head whipped around to look at him over her shoulder in alarm. "What? No, he could not possibly have done this."

He met her eyes, and he was _mostly_ joking and only stinging a little bit when he asked, "So then, who is the secret admirer?"

Ziva looked back at the flowers. "I do not know," she said softly, sounding overwhelmed.

He nudged her shoulder to encourage her to move forward. Ziva dug her heels in and leaned back, away from her desk. She seemed reluctant to find out who had sent them to her.

"Go look," Tony told her.

"No," she hissed back.

"Hey!" McGee called from the other end of the room. "You made it back. I guess I owe Abby 20 bucks."

Tony walked around Ziva to his desk, and shot a light glare at McGee. "I hope you weren't eyeing off my desk there, McGee."

"How was Miami?"

"Weird."

McGee lifted his eyebrows. "Same as always, then. Where's your witness?"

"With Vance." Tony dropped into his chair and turned on his computer. "Where's Gibbs?"

"Coffee run."

"How pissed is he?"

McGee shrugged. "Hard to tell. He hasn't said anything since yesterday morning."

Tony made a face and then looked up at Ziva. She was still hovering at the mouth of the bullpen and staring at the flowers with trepidation.

"What's wrong with Ziva?" McGee asked him.

"She's suspicious of greenery," Tony said. "Something about an ambush in a florist when she was a kid that took the life of her favorite teddy bear."

"_Ziva!Ziva!Ziva!_"

Tony looked up as Abby came flying around the corner, sprinted across the bullpen and then launched herself at Ziva. Ziva couldn't absorb Abby's weight or momentum, and she staggered back until her back slammed into the wall beside the window and her head cracked against the bricks. Total body slam.

"Ugh!" Ziva moaned as all the air left her lungs.

Tony and McGee jumped to their feet. "_Abby!_" they cried in unison.

"Oh my God! I'm sorry!" Abby cried, stepping back only far enough to grab Ziva by the shoulders. "Are you okay?"

Ziva dropped her head to press her hand to the back of her head. "Yes," she said, but with a wince. "Of course."

Abby stared at her with her patented sorry little puppy face as Tony and McGee joined them. "I just wanted to welcome you back and say happy anniversary," Abby told her. "We got you flowers."

Ziva looked up at her, only slightly dazed. "The flowers are from you?"

"From all of us," Abby said, gesturing between herself, McGee and Tony. "Do you like them?"

Ziva visibly relaxed, but she still clutched her head. "Yes. Thank you. They are beautiful."

"Do you need some ice?" Tony asked.

Ziva shook her head, then squeezed her eyes shut. "No, I am fine." She brought her hand down and smiled at Abby before hugging her swiftly. "Thank you, Abby."

"Are you free tomorrow night?" Abby asked her. "Because me and McGee are going to make you an anniversary dinner at Gibbs' place."

"Oh, that is not necessary—"

"Yes, it is!" Abby insisted. "So you'll come, right?"

Ziva hesitated and then smiled. "Of course. It will be a lovely way to spend our last night on earth."

Abby and McGee frowned as Tony rolled his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" McGee asked.

Ziva gestured at Tony. "Tony has it on good authority that the Rapture will arrive on Saturday night."

Abby and McGee shifted their gaze to Tony. The two scientific thinkers both looked incredibly disappointed in him.

"Tony," Abby said with disbelief. "Since when are you a doomsdayer?"

"I'm not," he assured her. "Even if there has been a rash of hurricanes, floods, volcanoes, earthquakes, plagues and wildfires in the last two days."

"I thought you said there wasn't a hurricane in Miami," McGee said.

"There wasn't. It was just a storm. With gale force winds, blackouts and localized flooding." He paused. "Also a red moon."

"Red moon?"

"Partial eclipse," Ziva said.

"Which translates to 'red moon'," Tony said. "Very creepy. But oddly hypnotic."

The four of them moved back to the bullpen, and Tony and McGee returned to their desks as Abby helped Ziva move the flowers to the bookshelf behind her desk.

"You know," Abby started. "If the Rapture is scheduled for Saturday then we should have a joint anniversary and end of the world party."

"What does that mean?" McGee asked.

Abby shrugged. "I don't know. I guess we could play Twister or something. Make it a theme." The idea seemed to catch fire in her head, and her eyes widened as she started talking it out at speed. "I didn't get home for Christmas this year so I haven't played in ages."

Tony, Ziva and McGee looked around at each other, each wondering if they'd missed a piece of information that would have drawn the link between Twister and Christmas. When everyone looked as clueless as everyone else, so Tony took the lead in gathering the details.

"So, you play Twister at Christmas?" he guessed. "Is that a traditional thing?"

Abby nodded quickly. "The Sciutos have a tournament every year. My cousin Stan has won the last three years in a row."

Tony leaned forward over his desk. "Wait, do they make you remove your shoes and spikes? Because where I'm from, if you don't that's considered playing dirty. That's a three-shot penalty."

"You make Twister a drinking game?" McGee asked, sounding incredulous until he thought a little deeper about it and realized who he was talking to. "Why am I surprised? Of course you do."

"Well, how do you play it, McLeftHandGreen?" Tony asked with the ghost of a sneer. "Exactly as the rules say you have to?"

"That's the point of having rules, Tony," McGee explained with forced patience.

"I bet your little sister beat you," Tony muttered.

McGee looked stung, but only because Tony was clearly right. "She learned to pinch at a young age," he said defensively.

Ziva snorted as she chuckled, drawing Tony's gaze. He looked at her hopefully. "You know what Twister is, right?"

If the eye roll she gave him was any indication, she was offended that he thought otherwise. "Of course I know what it is. I was not raised in a shed."

"Barn."

"But we were not allowed to play again after our first few games," Ziva continued. "Things had a tendency to get…violent."

McGee winced with sympathy. "You learned to pinch at a young age too?"

"It was not so much the violence _during_ the game that made my mother angry," Ziva said conversationally. "It was afterwards, when the loser sought vengeance."

Tony pointed at her sternly. "Then I don't think you should be allowed to play Twister with us."

"Tony!" Abby cried. "Of course she can play!"

Ziva gave him her Mona Lisa smile. "If I lose, I will tell you another secret."

He briefly looked her up and down as a knowing smile tugged at his lips. "You didn't tell me anything that good last time," he hedged.

She sighed at him. "Then if I lose, you get to ask me anything. _One_ question," she added hastily.

"Sold," Tony said quickly, almost before she'd finished speaking. "Ziva's playing."

"And I get to ask you anything," she added.

Tony hesitated, but ultimately decided that the potential gain was worth the risk. "Okay," he said, his voice significantly weaker than before.

Ziva smiled at him, and he got the feeling that he'd just handed her the keys to his private vault.

"What if McGee loses?" Abby asked.

McGee looked at her traitorously. "What about if _you_ lose?"

Abby chuckled and rolled her eyes. "McGee!" she said, as if he was being deliberately adorable. "There's no way _I'm_ going to lose."

"Then you get to ask him anything," Tony said.

"Hey! No!" McGee protested. "I don't agree to that."

"What do you have to hide?" Ziva purred.

"Nothing!"

"Then what's the problem?" Tony asked.

McGee looked between the three of them, protesting with his eyes until he realized he didn't have a champion. His shoulders slumped and he caved in. "Fine."

Abby clapped her hands excitably. "This will be fun!" she declared. "Happy anniversary!"

Tony grinned at her. "And goodbye world."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

_Saturday, 2007_

Tony's head weighed heavily in his hand as he watched the clock on his computer screen flip over another minute. This was not how the team had been planning to spend their Saturday night, stuck at the Navy Yard and running background searches on suspects instead of gathering at Gibbs' house for an anniversary/end of the world party. He supposed it could have been worse. He could have been sitting in the NCIS bullpen by himself, or they could have been racing against the clock to find a terrorist or a child killer. But they'd had plans tonight—_he_ had _specific_ plans—and it was hard not to feel cranky or glum about the interruption. At least he could take comfort in the fact that the whole team was stuck there with him. As far as he knew, Gibbs was with Ducky in autopsy, Abby was down in Labby, and Ziva and McGee were with him in the bullpen, suffering through the same computer search hell as him.

Correction: _McGee_ was suffering through computer search hell at his desk. Ziva, meanwhile, was standing by the window, drawing patterns in the condensation that formed on the pane under her breath. Sure, it was supposed to be her night, and so she probably had more of a reason that the rest of them to be irritated with work. But if she sat her perky behind at her desk and perhaps helped with the search that he and McGee were wrestling with, perhaps they'd get out of there a bit earlier and have time for a quick dinner before the world ended.

Or maybe not.

Beyond her, Tony could see that the rain that had been falling steadily all day and cranking the humidity up the scale to sit firmly on _disgusting _level was now coming down in torrents. Not only that but lighting was flashing every second or two, forking through the sky and turning the storm clouds electric blue. He cursed to himself as he thought about the impending drive to Gibbs' place. The streets would be wet—possibly flooded in places—and people would be moving at a snail's pace. Somehow, he didn't think they'd be getting to Gibbs' house any time soon.

"My car will be flooded by the time we get out of here," Ziva mused aloud.

"Only because you drive a tiny clown car," Tony told her.

He heard McGee sigh to himself, but he didn't know what that was about. He'd been sighing all night but not _saying_ anything, and Tony was about to turn his head to shoot him an irritated glance—_none_ of them wanted to be here!—when Ziva spoke again.

"I hate this," she muttered.

Her words teased out a memory, and Tony suddenly sang his response. "She said it's snowing, it's snowing, God I hate this weather. Now I'd walk through blizzards just to get us back together."

He grinned, pleased with himself as Ziva turned around fully to aim her familiar, confused frown at him. "What?"

"They Might Be Giants," Tony said.

McGee sighed again, heavier this time. What the hell was his problem?

"What?" Ziva asked again.

Tony sighed and rubbed his face. He should have known she wouldn't know her experimental bands from the 80s and 90s. "It's a song, Zee-vah."

"About giants in the snow?" she asked. She clearly couldn't see the relevance, and Tony accepted that there was only a tenuous link to their situation. She hated the weather. But he wasn't the kind of man who would admit that his joke wasn't any good.

"No, it's about New York City," Tony said, pretending that it was obvious.

Ziva stared some more. "_What?_"

Behind him, McGee quickly pushed back his chair and stood up. He didn't let out another sigh, but his jaw was clenched in that way it got when he was trying to decide whether to shoot Tony himself or wait for Ziva to do it.

"I'm going down to see if Abby needs a hand," he told them, and then left the bullpen as fast as he could.

Tony watched him go with a perplexed frown. What the hell was up his butt? "Hurry back now," he sang after him, and then as soon as the elevator doors closed he turned to look at Ziva, who seemed as miffed as Tony felt. "What did I say?"

Ziva shrugged and wandered closer to his desk. "I do not know. Did you play any pranks on him today?"

"Have I told you I played a prank on him?"

"No."

"Do you think I could keep my mouth shut about it if I did?"

"No," she conceded.

"Maybe he's just depressed about the end of the world."

Ziva shot him a gently admonishing look. "Perhaps he was actually excited about playing Twister."

Tony pointed a pen at her. "Maybe he really wanted to cook," he suggested, and then made a face to mirror Ziva's. It was unlikely. McGee was a terrible cook.

"I think Abby was going to do most of that."

Tony sat up straighter as a thought occurred to him. "Maybe that's it! Maybe he was looking forward to being in the kitchen _with_ Abby as the end of the world approached."

"You need to stop talking about the end of the world," she warned.

He waved his hand dismissively. "No, Ziva, think about it."

She walked over to perch on the corner of his desk near his right arm. "Think about what?"

Tony leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "McGee's still in love with her," he announced, and then paused for effect as if he was in a murder mystery movie. "And Abby has moved on."

Ziva shrugged, unaffected by his 'bombshell'. "Perhaps. But they seem to handle it between themselves. And it is none of our business."

Her reasoning did not compute with Tony. "Of course it's our business. Why wouldn't it be our business?"

Ziva braced a hand on the middle of his desk and leaned in. "Do you think you know everything about them?"

Tony shuddered. "That's a scary thought. Of course not."

"Then how do you know how either of them feels?"

He shot her a megawatt smile. "Because I'm a very talented investigator."

"Mhmm," Ziva grunted, unswayed. "Do you want my theory?"

Tony raised an eyebrow and leaned towards her, close enough to receive a secret. "Do tell, Zee-vah."

"Abby knows that McGee still has a flame for her," she told him, her eyes briefly flicking over the length of him. "And McGee knows that she knows. It is acknowledged. But it is over. And even though she does not want to give him hope where there is none, she still loves him more than me or you—"

"Hey," he protested weakly.

"—and so she continues to enjoy his company." She paused. "Nothing will ever happen between them again, however."

Tony pursed his lips as he tried to find a hole in her theory. But honestly, he thought she was right. "How long have you spent thinking about this?" he asked.

"Not long," she replied. "The two of them are not complicated."

They held gazes, just inches apart, as Tony worked that through. He suspected she wasn't just commenting on Abby and McGee. In some ways, Abby and McGee's relationship was the opposite of his and Ziva's. Not complicated/very complicated. Very open affection/all in the eyes. Never fought/fought every day. Didn't have a future/just at the beginning of theirs.

Weren't they?

His eyes fell to her mouth as his thoughts headed off to the plans he'd made for them post-dinner tonight. He wasn't planning on making a move, exactly. Not a big one. Big moves weren't their style. But he was planning something for which he could use the end of the world as an excuse. Except they were already supposed to be at Gibbs' place and eating dinner. He hoped they wouldn't run so far behind schedule that he wouldn't be able to put his plans into action before midnight.

"Tony?" Ziva asked when they'd been staring at each other from six inches apart for a little too long.

"Hmm?"

"You are thinking very hard about Abby and McGee," she said.

Tony smiled and finally looked away. "No," he said on a chuckle. "I was just—" But a beep from his computer cut him off, and both of them swung their eyes around to look at the search result on his screen. They both switched to work mode.

"Get a hit?" she asked.

"And they said I'd never find them," he grinned. "Looks like our suspect's alias has a residence in Bedford."

Tony held out his hand for a pen and Ziva reached over the desk to grab one.

"2151—" he read off the screen, but that was as far as he got before everything went black. His computer died, the overhead lights went off, and the constant hum of the air-conditioning cut out.

"What the hell?" he yelped.

They both stood and craned their necks to look around the floor. With the exception of a few emergency lights, nothing else was running. No computers, no televisions, no scrolling marquee, no desk lamps. There wasn't even another person around to check with.

"Blackout?" she suggested.

Tony reached around Ziva to pick up his desk phone. He found the line dead, and slammed the receiver down. "Damn it! Quick, what was the address again? I can't do another search. I'll go crazy."

Ziva shook her head, not having had a good look at the screen. "2151 something street in Bedford."

Tony crawled it on a random piece of paper. "Krishna?" he tried, trying to remember the street name. "Kirkshaw? K-something-S-H-something."

Ziva pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket. "I will call security," she said, but her thumb just hovered over the keypad. "I do not know the full number for the security desk."

Tony looked up at her helplessly. "Nine?" he said, referring to the internal quick dial number.

Ziva sighed, and instead hit number two on her speed dial.

"Yah?" came Gibbs' grunt over the line.

"Are you still down in autopsy?" she asked him.

"Nope. Came home a half hour ago to get the grill ready," Gibbs said. She could hear a slight smirk in his voice when he asked, "What're you still doin' there, David? There's a storm coming."

"We were doing background searches," Ziva told him, rolling her eyes at Tony with exasperation, even if her partner didn't understand why. "But the power has just gone out in the building."

Gibbs took that in his deadpan stride. "Uh-huh. What've you got?"

"Just emergency lighting," she replied.

There was a pause before Gibbs said flatly, "About the case, Ziva."

"Oh! We found a house in Bedford under our suspect's alias."

"_I_ found," Tony interrupted.

"Sorry, _Tony_ found it," she amended. "But he did not manage to write down the address before the power went out."

Tony looked at her traitorously, and she smiled sweetly in return.

"McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Went down to see Abby about ten minutes ago." She switched topics again. "You are getting the grill ready? Gibbs, it is raining in Biblical proportions. And I thought Abby—"

"Ah, hell, Ziva," Gibbs cut in. "Just relax." He hung up without another word, and Ziva put her phone back in her pocket.

"Gibbs says good work."

Tony's cell rang before he could call her a liar or ask why she seemed irritated with the boss, and he read Abby's name off the screen before he answered. "You okay, Abs?"

"This stupid power outage wrecked Major Mass Spec's project!" she yelled down the line.

Tony winced and held the phone a safer distance from his ear. "Know how you feel."

"I'll probably need more tissue samples, Tony," she said at a more reasonable level. "Can you get some?"

"I'd talk to the Duckman about that."

"His cell is off and Gibbs' is going to voicemail."

"He was talking to Ziva," Tony told her. "He's free now. Why don't you just walk over to autopsy and ask?"

"Tony!" Abby admonished, although Tony couldn't immediately work out why. "NCIS security systems. When there's a power cut the system shuts down and locks off all forensic areas. Me, Ducky, computer forensics, we're all stuck here until the men with the keys and the guns come around to let us out."

Tony winced for her. "Oooh, that's not good. Is McGee still with you?"

"Yes."

"Well, at least you have company."

"Is Ziva with you?"

"Sittin' right here, pretty as a picture." He winked at Ziva when she gave him an impassive look.

"Try not to kill each other, okay?" Abby begged.

"Huh?"

"McGee said you were fighting again. For, like, the four hundredth time this week."

Tony made a face like he couldn't see the big deal. "That was ages ago."

"Ten minutes?"

"Right. Ages."

"Well, what are we going to do about the party?" she asked, sounding more upset about the potential of losing their team bonding experience than she was about losing evidence. "We have to do something for Ziva."

Tony grinned up at Ziva again who stared back at him, clueless. "Oh, you can leave that one to me, Abs. I'm all over it."

There was a pause. "Are you being gross right now?" she finally asked.

Tony's smile fell a bit. "No, that's not what I was getting at." Abby sighed and then hung up without saying goodbye. "She's learning from Gibbs _and_ McGee," he muttered as he tossed his cell on the desk. "Major Mass Spec was running samples when the power went out. Abby sounds mad."

"Yes, she did," Ziva agreed, having heard the beginning of Abby's phone call herself. "You don't suppose—" she started, but was cut off by a loud voice coming over the PA system.

"_Attention all employees and visitors. This is security desk. We are currently experiencing a power outage."_

Tony and Ziva rolled their eyes at each other over the unnecessary statement.

"_We've been advised by Capitol Energy that this is due to current extreme weather conditions. A substation has been affected and approximately a quarter of the District is without power. The ETA for having the fault fixed is currently at three hours."_

"Oh, you're kidding," Tony sighed. He'd been looking forward to their anniversary/end of the world dinner party with Twister tournament and inevitable sharing of secrets. Not to mention his plans for afterwards. But it looked like it might not happen at all.

"_We and other affected Government agencies and buildings are now in lockdown for security purposes. Please stay in your current location, and report any suspicious activity or medical emergencies to the security desk. We will broadcast developments as they come to hand."_

Tony scrawled down the number that was provided for the security desk, just in case, and threw the pen down. "Three hours?"

Ziva dropped her head back in defeat. "God, I hate this weather."

Tony leaned back in his chair again and propped his feet up on his desk, making Ziva shift an inch out of his way. "I always had a feeling that I'd spend my last day on earth stuck in this building. But I thought I'd at least have the welcome distraction of computers or the Internet."

Ziva narrowed her eyes. "Thank you."

He cocked his head to the side as he regarded her. "That was not a comment on the quality of the company, Ziva," he said on a single sigh. "I was planning on spending the night with you anyway, remember? It was just a reference to the fact that I get distracted by shiny things." His eyes fell on his cell phone, and he grabbed for it. "Hey! I can get the Internet on this thing."

Ziva rolled off the side of his desk and went back to hers. "So, what? You can watch the You Tube version of _Rear Window_ on a four-inch screen?"

He fiddled with the keys on his phone, trying to get the Internet application working. He frowned. "Okay, I don't actually know how to use this thing for that."

Ziva sat heavily in her chair and leant over the desk to rest her chin on her stacked hands. "An otherwise brilliant plan goes down the pipe."

"Drain," he corrected automatically.

"So, what do you do when the power goes out?" Ziva mused.

Tony tossed his phone back onto his desk, and then swung his legs off the desk so he could mirror her position. "Eat. Have sex. Sleep. Smoke pot. Tell ghost stories. Or just talk, you know?"

She mulled that over. "Got any pot?"

Tony grinned at her pick, but shook his head. "No. Hey, you know what we can do? You can start teaching me how to kill with a stapler. You promised me."

"I do not recall that conversation," she said.

He lifted his chin off his fists. "Wait, I've got Twister in my car. What's say you and me have our own tournament?" He wagged his eyebrows at her, but in the dark he wasn't sure if she'd be able to see his expression. After eight years together, though, he thought it was likely that she'd see it in her head anyway. When she sounded amused instead of annoyed, he figured he'd been right.

"Perhaps," she purred. "But let's leave it for hour two of our lockdown."

* * *

_Saturday, 2056_

Tony followed Ziva up the stairs, somehow managing not to trip despite the dim light and the fact that his eyes were trained on her ass. They were on a scouting mission to see who else was around (if anyone), and possibly steal some snacks off them if they had the chance, but Tony didn't rate their chance of success too highly. Only a crazy person would hang around the building this late on a Saturday night. Team Gibbs was already present and accounted for (aside from their namesake who'd booked an hour ago without telling anyone), but Tony couldn't really think of anyone else who fit the bill.

"People may be trapped in MTAC," Ziva said as they passed the door.

"They'll be staying there until the power comes back on," Tony replied. "No chance we'll be able to bust them out. It's like a fortress in there. A fortress of solitude. Maybe Superman's in there with…"

"Oh, we need to find you some food, quickly," Ziva cut in, sighing. "I have grown accustomed to your non-linear ramblings over the years, but I am not going to listen to you wax poetic about men in tights for the rest of the night."

Tony shot her a look out of the corner of his eye. "I'm not the only one who needs food," he muttered. "You're not the best company when your stomach's rumbling."

In the pause that followed, Tony widened the space between them and prepared to combat roll out of the way if she decided to unleash her fists of fury upon his precious face. But instead, she heaved an epic sigh and gently tugged the sleeve of his shirt.

"Sorry," she quietly offered. "It seems we will not make it to dinner tonight. I need a muffin or something."

"How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that?" he quipped. He grinned at her as he held open the frosted glass door that led to the executive offices, and Ziva passed him with a smirk.

Once inside, her hand went to her gun on her hip. He rolled his eyes at her back as he followed her down the hall and peered into dark offices.

"Are you expecting an ambush?" he asked. "You heard security. It's a city-wide blackout, courtesy of the Rapture."

"It is not the Rapture and I am simply being prepared," she told him, pausing in the doorway of one of the assistant director's offices and taking a closer look inside. "Perhaps that was not security. Perhaps this _is_ an ambush."

Tony showed his disapproval of her theory by dramatically staggering a few steps and clutching the wall for balance. "Oh my _God_," he said pointedly. "Why does _everything_ have to be an ambush with you?"

Ziva spun out of the office and gently kneed him in the butt. "Maybe because sometimes, it is."

"I'll bet you anything that it really is a power outage, and that you're paranoid."

"That is a ridiculous bet," Ziva declared.

"Think you'll lose?"

Ziva turned back to him again, and flung her arms out. "I am almost _positive_, Tony. There's a 99 per cent chance that this is simply a weather-related blackout and _not the Rapture_ or anything else. But preparing for that one per cent is what has kept me alive all these years."

Tony shrugged an agreement—honestly, he couldn't argue with spy girl on that point—but stayed quiet. Satisfied that she had made her point, Ziva continued up the hall. Tony wandered along behind her.

"You know that if there actually is someone up here harboring nefarious intent, they would have heard us coming by now."

Ziva muttered something at him in Hebrew, but Tony chose not to ask for the translation. They entered Vance's outer office, and Ziva once again rested her hand on her gun as she stepped over to Vance's closed office door. She glanced back at him, gave him a pointed look, and Tony sighed and lifted his hand to rest over his gun as well. Fine, he would have her back in case she was attacked by the army of _nothing_ hidden inside Vance's office. Ziva nodded, and then pushed open the door until it was against the wall behind it. She did a visual sweep before stepping inside and doing a lap of Vance's empty desk.

"Clear," she told him.

Tony stepped past her, over to the large window that overlooked the Potomac and the District beyond. Usually at this time of night there were lights as far as the eye could see. But tonight, there was a conspicuous belt of blackness between the river and the border with Maryland.

"That's creepy," he declared.

Ziva came over to stand beside him, so close that her shoulder pressed against his arm. For a few moments they watched the rain pour down and lightning flash over the city. It reminded Tony of early Friday morning, when they'd watched the red moon hanging low in the sky over Miami. Now, as then, there was something weirdly romantic about it, although Tony couldn't put his finger on why it felt that way.

"You are the one insisting it is just a power blackout, yes?" she reminded him.

"Yes," he said quickly, so she wouldn't think her caution was getting to him. "But it's still creepy. And I'm getting tired of all these world-ending storms that are following us."

She tilted her face up towards him. "Are you afraid of the dark?"

He looked back at her. "If I said I was, would you hold me?"

The corner of her mouth barely turned up. "No." She held up her cell phone and pressed a button to make the screen glow. "But I will give you a night light."

"Always prepared," he smirked, and then looked back out the window. "You know, if we're here all night, you might _want_ to hold me."

She turned to lean against the bureau under the window, and crossed her arms. "I know I will regret asking why."

He bumped her thigh with his knee. "No air-con, Ziva. It might get cold in here."

She scrunched her nose at him, clearly disagreeing. "It is more likely to get unbearably warm."

Tony knew that. It was summer in D.C., although they hadn't reached the unbearably hot portion of the season yet. Even still, the air-con in the building was welcome. But you couldn't blame a guy for looking for an excuse to snuggle up to his sexy partner. "Just be glad you're not down in autopsy. It'd be even creepier."

Ziva pushed off the bureau to follow him out of the office. "Ducky has scotch down there."

Tony held the door open for her, and then closed it behind them. He was well aware of Ducky's stash—they'd both gotten into it after returning from _that_ trip to L.A. But he made a joke. "Yeah, but he's also got corpses. I'm not sure it's worth the trade."

When they got to the top of the stairs, Ziva did a visual sweep of the bullpen. Although it was remained dark, it looked like they were still alone. "Why are we the only idiots here on a Saturday night?"

Tony turned his head to look at her, and raised a self-aware eyebrow. "I think you just answered your own question."

She grunted with acknowledgement and took the stairs down to the first landing. She leaned against the railing and looked up at him as he followed her down the stairs. "It is a shame, you know."

"That we're idiots? Yes, it is."

"No, that we did not get to play Twister tonight."

He stood in front of her on the landing. "Like I said, it's in my car. We've just got to work out how to get down there."

She shook her head and tugged on his sleeve as she continued down the stairs. "No, that we all did not get to play."

"You wanted to see Gibbs do the downward dog?"

She snorted. "Not particularly."

"You wanted to hear what Abby was going to ask McGee when he lost?"

"Yes," she said with a smile in her voice, and nudged him with her shoulder.

"What were you going to ask me?"

She stopped to look up at him, and Tony got a little tingle at the top of his spine when a flash of lightning lit up the smile on her face. "Are you conceding that I would have beat you?" she asked.

He let go of his pride. "It's pretty likely, considering."

"Considering what?"

He gestured at her body. "Well, you're all…lithe," he settled on, hoping it didn't sound as creepy as the dozen other descriptors he'd considered. "And bendy."

"And you are even less flexible than Ducky."

"Yeah, well, I was an athlete," he said with forced pride. "I pushed my body too far, you know? Now I pay the price."

Ziva looked like she was fighting her laughter. Eventually she swallowed, got hold of herself, and stepped forward until her chest brushed against his and he could feel her breath on his chin. "I am sure you could push it further if you wanted, Tony," she purred.

The comment and its delivery was old school Ziva, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up just like it used to in the days when her sexually aggressive comments were far more frequent. Back when he honestly didn't know whether she was teasing, inviting or just trying to get under his skin. He missed those days. There seemed to be much more of a spark between them, albeit a dangerous one. But he wouldn't trade what they had now for it. He still didn't know whether she was inviting him, exactly, but at least he knew that she held deep affection for him, rather than intense irritation. And she didn't make him nervous anymore.

Well, most of the time.

He gave her a cool half smile in return, like he would have seven or eight years ago, and leaned his head even closer to hers. "Just give me a good enough reason, Ziva."

Her smile grew, and if possible she swayed even closer to him. If he moved his head just a fraction forward he knew he'd be able to brush his lips against hers, and then God only knew what would happen. The tingle at the back of his neck spread down his back and around his chest, and he swore the temperature between them soared 20 degrees. If the world really was going to end, this wouldn't be a bad moment to go out with. But it could be better.

"Okay," Ziva said, dropping her voice significantly to something much huskier and intimate. "Let's say you did win our competition. That you pushed your body to its limit, and you beat me. What do you want to ask me?"

He drew a deep breath. God, the possibilities were endless. He couldn't count the number of things he wanted to ask her, from the painfully serious to the absurd, the safe to the terrifyingly risky. But now that he had permission to pick her brains, he couldn't work out where to start.

His eyes fell from hers to land on her shoulder, and he tried to start sifting his thoughts into broad categories. He almost had it narrowed down and was heading in a fairly safe direction until he remembered that damn bucket list, and their conversation the other night about starting to cross some things off it. Perhaps he wouldn't put a firm and steady line through any of the items tonight, but he could make a start that he could pick up and finish later.

He swallowed and looked up at her again, and he wondered what it was that she saw in his eyes that made her pull her head back just a fraction.

"In Paris," he began, and he swore he heard her breath catch. "Were you asleep?"

Her eyes widened briefly before her eyebrows barely drew together. He wondered for a moment if she wouldn't answer, but then her eyes softened and he knew she would tell him the truth.

"No," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "At least, not when you…"

When he wrapped his body around hers, held her hand and kissed the back of her shoulder. She'd been sleeping fitfully, tossing every few minutes and waking with gasps. It was still so soon after she had returned from Somalia and things between them hadn't healed. He'd known that asking her about it would embarrass her and send her running, so he'd just rolled over, hugged her back to his chest and tried to calm her down. It had seemed to work, but he'd assumed she'd slept through it because there had never been any acknowledgement of any kind. Until now.

"But you still let me…"

"Yes."

"Why?" he had to ask.

Ziva held his gaze for a moment before her eyes drifted over his shoulder as she thought about it. Finally she shrugged and gave a little smile, and met his eyes again. "Because I needed you," she told him plainly. "And because I know you needed me to need you." Her smile grew a little under a frown, and she shook her head. "Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," Tony assured her. And it was the truth. It was one of the most maddening things about their relationship. Ziva rarely needed anyone for anything. In contrast, Tony had this base need to be needed. When the two of them clashed, more often that not it was this basic incongruity that was the cause. At times it could be tough to live with, or for either of them to understand or accept. But when one of them made a compromise? That's when they made breakthroughs.

Ziva gave him a soft smile and then dipped her head as she stepped past him towards the window. Tony couldn't be sure, but it looked like the storm was losing some of its ferocity. He held out hope that they might get out of there before midnight.

He leant his back against the welcome coolness of the windowpane and looked down at her. "Okay, pretend _you_ won," said, then added with a chuckle, "As if that would happen. What were you going to ask me?"

She breathed out a self-conscious laugh. "I have no idea," she admitted. She glanced up at him. "When it comes to you, Tony, I think I prefer to be surprised by what lurks beneath the surface."

"I'm a bundle of surprises," he said with a confident smile.

She looked up at him from under her lashes with that damn Mona Lisa smile. "Yes. You are."

He was pretty sure she meant it as a compliment. "Hey, one more time, sorry about forgetting your anniversary. And then not being able to celebrate when we said we would."

Ziva lifted her shoulder in a shrug, absolving him of his guilt. "Next year. If the world has not ended."

"It's just a real shame we didn't get to do body shots," he joked, staring wistfully into the dark. But the next thing he knew, Ziva had wrapped her hand around the back of his head, pulled him towards her and dragged her tongue from the top of his shirt collar and up his neck to his ear. He cried out in surprise as he instinctively tried to pull away from her, but he was laughing by the time he wiped his neck and looked at her.

Ziva looked very pleased with herself as she licked her lips, and then looked him up and down. "Needs a little more tequila," she declared.

Perhaps. But if she wanted to lick him again, Tony wouldn't insist on it.

* * *

**One chapter to go. Thanks again for reading. Thanks to those who are following and favoriting. And a big thanks to those who are reviewing. **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Here's the final chapter. Thanks to those of you who have let me know that you've enjoyed this.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

_Saturday, 2301_

"Someone is coming."

Tony slowly lifted his head from his desk and squinted through the dark at his partner. He could see her sitting at attention at her desk, with her head cocked to the side like a German Shepherd listening for clues. Tony tried to listen as well, but all he could hear was the rain _still_ hitting the windowpane and intermittent thunder. God, this storm would never end.

"I don't hear anything," he said tiredly.

Ziva cocked her head to the other side as she tried to locate the source of the sound. "They are approaching from behind you."

He didn't know why he should feel nervous at that, but he got up anyway and crossed to her side of the room. He perched on the bookcase behind her desk and looked around. "And how many are in the approaching army?" he asked her.

She shook her head and raised herself a little way off her chair. "Just one."

"How many guns?"

She didn't catch on that he was kind of making fun of her. And a moment later when they saw a torch beam come from the direction of the back right elevator, he was glad that she hadn't. Because then he would have to admit he'd been wrong. And damn, he hated that.

"Anyone here?" a deep male voice called out.

"Here," Tony called back, and then watched the torch beam slide over walls and desks until it hit him in the face. He held his hand up against the light. "Hey!"

"Sorry, Agent DiNozzo." Tony now recognized the voice as belonging to Marine Sergeant Hector Ruiz, who often guarded the security gates in the foyer of the building. The beam moved to Ziva's face. "Special Agent David."

"What's going on, Ruiz? Can we break out of here yet?" he asked hopefully.

"All clear, sir," Ruiz replied. "But you'll have to take the stairs down. Power is still out."

Tony slowly got to his feet while Ziva jumped to hers. He sent her a glare of envy that he knew she wouldn't see.

"Agent McGee and Abby Sciuto are still down in her lab," Ziva told him. "They will need to be freed."

"That could take a while," Ruiz told her. "There's a sophisticated locking system on all the lab doors that's difficult to override. But someone is working on it." He flashed his torch beam around the floor. "Anyone else here with you?"

"No."

"Well, be careful as you exit the building," Ruiz said. "The emergency lights are on in the fire stairs but it's still dim. And the weather outside is still bad."

"Got it," Tony said.

"Thank you," Ziva added.

Ruiz nodded and headed off to climb the stairs behind Tony's desk.

Tony stretched out his back, rubbed his hands over his face and shuffled back over to his desk to collect his backpack and coat. "Well, I only ended up spending six more hours here than I'd intended to today. I've had worse."

Ziva shouldered her bag and lifted her eyebrows in acknowledgement. "And I am sure you will in the future. At least we got out before the world ended."

He joined her at the mouth of the bullpen and they walked together towards the fire stairs.

"It's almost a shame," he said on a sigh. "I was warming to the idea of dying where I live."

Ziva shot him a dubious look. "You really want to die at your desk?"

"I guess not. I want to go in a hail of bullets while saving a hundred women and children from a terrorist." He held open the fire door for her, and Ziva preceded him into the dim staircase.

"I would expect nothing less for your first choice," Ziva said, her voice bouncing off the concrete walls. "But for your second, would you not choose old age?"

"Sure, I guess," he said dismissively, even if it was the preferred option.

They walked down the next four flights of stairs in silence until they finally reached the external door that was being held open with a large rock and a fire extinguisher. The wind whipped rain into their faces before they'd even taken the last step down to the floor, but after spending the last few hours in a stuffy office the brief shower was bordering on welcome. Ziva dashed from the fire door to stand under the pergola about ten feet from the building, and Tony followed her. The pergola area was often used by people sneaking a quick smoke, and there were cigarette butts stuffed into ashtrays on two plastic tables. Half a dozen plastic chairs were pulled up to the tables, and in the corner of the area was a large potted cactus that had seen better days.

Ziva titled her face up to look at him and flashed him a smile. "Well. Thank you for a memorable anniversary, Tony."

He smirked and gestured around them. "Yeah, I was responsible for all this. You're welcome."

She touched his arm briefly. "I feel very special."

"Hey! DiNozzo and David!"

They looked back at the fire door they'd just came through, and Tony groaned when he saw Luis Zapata and Special Agent Grimshaw jog through the rain to join them under the pergola.

"Hey, fancy seeing you here," Zapata said. "You get stuck inside? I got stuck inside. It was a tiny little room, too. Seems like that's all that happens to me these days is getting stuck someplace while Mother Nature unleashes hell."

Tony didn't really know what to say to that. Except the obvious. "Yeah. Well, it's the end of the world tonight, so…"

"Tony," Ziva gently admonished, but he could see the smirk on her face.

Zapata laughed and pointed at him. "A-ha! You're a funny guy, you know that, Agent DiNozzo?"

"I've been told."

"Hey, can you guys keep an eye on him for a sec while I get the car?" Agent Grimshaw asked them. "I've got to take him back to his hotel."

Tony's stomach fell at the idea of being left to look after Zapata again, but he nodded anyway. "Yeah. But you have to come back really fast."

"_Really_ fast," Ziva repeated.

Grimshaw chuckled knowingly, gave them a quick salute and then raced off across the Yard to the car park.

Zapata kept talking as if there had been no interruption. "The thing about all those people who think it's the end of the world, though? They're makin' the most of it." He paused and bobbed his head from side to side. "Well, the ones who aren't freakin' out are. Like, you and me? We could stand here and call 'em all stupid. But what if they're doing really brave things?"

Tony's eyes slid over to Ziva. Wasn't this the conversation the two of them had on Thursday morning at the airport? He had more or less made the same point to her, he was sure of it. But that meant that he and Zapata had a similar view on things, and he wasn't prepared to accept that.

"Like wrestling a tiger?" Ziva asked.

Zapata shrugged. "Yeah, maybe. If they want. I don't judge people. What are you doing tonight, honey? Wrestling a tiger or going home to your big-headed kids?"

Ziva smiled. "Going home."

"And what about you?" Zapata asked Tony. "You got any kids to go home to?"

Tony felt suddenly very sad, and cleared his throat to keep his bravado in place. "No. Not big-headed ones or otherwise."

Zapata actually looked sorry for him. "That's too bad. Do her kids hate you? You know, because you take up all her time."

"I do not!" Tony protested. "We work together. I _have_ to spend time with her."

"Thank you," Ziva said flatly.

Tony's head swung around quickly to look at her. "No, I didn't mean as an insult."

Ziva gave him an impassive look in return that he was pretty sure was all for Zapata's benefit. "My kids love him," Ziva told Zapata. "He is their favorite uncle."

Zapata leaned towards her with a leery grin. "Yeah, but I bet your husband hates his guts, right? Does he know you two are, uh…" he thrust his hips forward a few times and whistled.

Tony stared at him in open-mouthed shock, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed Ziva cross her arms firmly over her chest. He thought she was offended, and spent half a second wondering where on Zapata's body Ziva would aim her punch. But then he heard her laughing (and snorting) into her hand. Tony smiled at her and let Zapata off easy.

"I think we told you before. We're not doing that."

Zapata shrugged like he couldn't be bothered having the argument. "Yeah? Well, it's the end of the world, right? So maybe you should start. Hey, you know what I'd do if I really thought it was the end of the world?"

"Oh, good God," Ziva chuckled, wiping tears from her cheeks. "I cannot begin to imagine."

"I'd call up Shirley," he said, referring to the girlfriend who'd put a reptile in his car when she found out he'd been cheating on her. "No, I'd _go find_ Shirley. And I'd bring her a hundred cupcakes and tell her I was stupid and sorry and that I loved her."

Ziva's laughter died down, and she and Tony glanced at each other before they looked back at Zapata with awkward sympathy.

"Oh," Ziva said. "That is…nice."

"Didn't you say you were over her?" Tony asked.

Zapata glanced away. "Yeah, maybe. Or maybe I just say that so that I don't miss her, you know?"

Now Tony felt sorry for _him_. Because he'd been in that situation in the past—a couple of times, actually—and he knew how pathetic and sad it had made him feel. "Well, didn't you also say that there's always something you can do to make a crappy situation better?" God, he couldn't believe he was quoting this guy's 'wisdom' back at him. But the thing was, he kind of had a point.

A point that Zapata didn't think fit in to this situation. "Didn't you hear me when I said she put a frigging alligator in my car?" he asked, his voice rising. "That's as crappy as a situation gets, _amigo_. You can't come back from that."

"But it cannot get worse," Ziva pointed out. "So what is there to lose?"

Zapata looked at her like she was crazy. "Um, my _pee pee?_"

Ziva frowned, and Tony couldn't believe that she was going to ask for an explanation. "You mean your…" She trailed off and pointed down below.

"Are you for real?"

"English isn't Agent David's first language," Tony said, stepping in before things escalated to an even weirder place. If that was possible.

"You want me to draw you a picture?" Zapata asked. "Or take a photo?"

"No, I do not," Ziva replied quickly. "Perhaps you should approach Shirley by phone, then. Where she will not be able to reach your…pee pee."

Zapata shrugged it off. "Eh, she's messin' with some other guy's pee pee now. I missed my chance." He pointed at Tony. "Hey, when you find her? You know, _her?_ Don't miss your chance."

Tony's chest tightened suddenly, causing him to wince and swallow down the pain. He cleared his throat. "Uh, sure," he said, managing to still sound like he thought Zapata was a very, _very_ strange man. "I'll grab on to her."

Agent Grimshaw pulled up to the curb and honked his horn, and Ziva was quick to point Zapata's ride out to him.

"You have to go," she told him.

Zapata gave them two thumbs up. "Later. It was fun seeing you again, yeah? Make sure you spend the rest of the night wisely." And with those words of wisdom, Zapata turned and jogged to the waiting car. Tony and Ziva stayed silent until they were sure he was gone.

"That guy…" Tony started, but he didn't know what else there was to say. He didn't have to try, though, because Ziva just nodded knowingly.

"Yes," she agreed. "Time to go. See you tomorrow, if the world does not end."

Tony grinned and then impulsively leaned down to quickly kiss her cheek. "Happy anniversary. Please drive home safely."

Ziva snorted at him, and then gently snacked his stomach before she took off in a run towards her car. Tony watched her go with a smile. Saturday night was almost over, but he still had a feeling that he'd be seeing her again before midnight.

* * *

_Saturday, 2341_

When she finally got back to her apartment that night, Ziva knew that the power would still be out. On her drive home the streets had been dark, and her neighbors' windows were barely lit by flickering or faint lights. As she parked her car down the street from her complex and prepared to run through the still-heavy rain, she wondered where she had left her torch. But perhaps she would not bother with it. Perhaps she would just change and go straight to bed. Just like she did every other Saturday night.

She reached her apartment in record time, and although she knew it would be useless, she flipped the light switch inside her front door. The kitchen and living room beyond remained dark, so she flipped the switch back again, shut the door and locked it tight. The deadbolt was set and she had just slid the chain into place when the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Something wasn't right. Something didn't _feel_ right. Her apartment felt…occupied. No, not occupied now. But it had been some time between her leaving for work that morning and now. Someone had been in her space.

Once again she tried to remember where she had left her torch, but when she couldn't she reached for her cell phone and then passed it to her left hand. With her right hand she reached for her gun. Although she didn't think she would be shooting anybody, the feel of it in her hand was reassuring, even if her heart continued to race. She pressed a button on her phone to illuminate the screen, and then held it out in front of her as she looked around the room. In the very dim light, nothing appeared out of sorts. She didn't trust appearances, but for now she kept moving through her apartment in search of anything more obvious.

She found it in the living room. At first, she thought it was a person sitting in a chair in front of her couch, and her heartbeat quickened with alarm. But after raising her gun at it, her eyes focused a little more. It wasn't a person. The neck was far too long, and there was no head. Ziva inched closer, and quickly turned the screen on her phone back around to face her. She navigated to the camera feature, turned it around again, and then pressed on the screen until the flash went off. Turning the phone around again to look at the picture she'd just taken, Ziva was momentarily dumbstruck. Then it all fell into place. Her heart now pounded with relief, the hair on the back of her neck went down, and she speed dialed the only person who could be responsible.

"DiNozzo," he answered after three rings.

"Where are you?" she asked, and she was surprised by how breathless she sounded.

"Around," he answered vaguely. "Why? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that your habit of shooting inanimate objects is rubbing off on me," she said on a single sigh.

Tony sounded alarmed. "You _shot it?_ Ziva!"

"No! But I almost did," she replied, and walked the last few paces to the foreign object in her living room. "It is dark in here and at first glance it looked like there was an intruder sitting on my couch."

"Talk about murdering a song," he muttered.

Ziva crouched down and reached out to run her fingers over the lacquered face of the brand new guitar she couldn't quite see. "Where are you?" she asked again.

He sounded pleased with himself when he replied, "Outside. Parked behind you."

A smile broke over her face as her chest grew warm. "I do not have any tequila," she told him. "But you are welcome if you would still like to come up."

"Sure," he said, and then hung up.

Ziva put her gun back in her holster and went to the kitchen. As she rummaged through the cupboards for the torch or the candles that she knew had to be there, she chuckled to herself about how much Tony continued to surprise her. Even a year ago, he probably wouldn't have done something like this. To be fair, a year ago she probably would not have been comfortable accepting the gift. It spoke to how much progress the two of them had made since NCIS had been bombed and they had promised to each other that they would start trying—_really_ trying—to be more open with each other. There were times during the past 12 months that it had been very difficult to follow through on that promise. But she continued to try. She continued to confide in him and open herself up. And not once when she had done it had she regretted it. It turned out that she liked talking to him as something closer than a friend. She liked making sure that he knew she appreciated him. And if the tingles that now rushed through her veins were to be believed, she liked it when he reciprocated.

She had two large candles lit by the time Tony knocked on her door. She let him in, and then went through the process of locking up again. Tony took off his wet jacket and hung it on her coat rack.

"I think I saw a bunch of animals forming a line, two-by-two, out there."

Ziva chuckled and handed him a candle. "I could only find one-by-one of these."

"Mood lighting," he said.

They went into her living room, and Ziva sat on the floor in front of the guitar with her legs curled under her. She placed her candle on the coffee table, and Tony put his on the small console where she kept her TV. Ziva reached out to touch the guitar again, but she left it on its stand. In the candlelight she could now see that the face was made of light-colored wood, and the neck was very dark, almost black. The varnish had worn off in places and there were a few scratches around the sides, and on the bottom of the face, right above where it would rest on her thigh, was a small black illustration. Ziva squinted and moved closer to make it out, and then her eyes widened at what she saw.

She turned to look at Tony, who was already smiling at her. "Is that a drawing of a ninja?"

Tony chuckled and nodded. "Yeah. You can see why I had to get it."

"It came like this?"

"Yeah. Pre-loved. I couldn't walk past it."

She felt her smile spread across her face as she looked at her partner with utter affection. "When did you get this?"

Tony scratched his chin in what struck her as a strangely nervous gesture. "Last night. After our conversation in Miami I thought I'd get you something to help you start your own bucket list. Our days are numbered, you know."

Ziva reached over to put her hand on his. The bucket list had been his idea, and although she had liked the idea of him teaching her how to play, she did not honestly think it would end up happening. Now, she really hoped it would. "Thank you, Tony. I love it."

"Good."

"When did you put it here?"

He gave her a vaguely guilty wince. "Right after you left for work this morning."

Ziva pressed her tongue into her cheek. She was not completely comfortable with people being in her space without her knowledge, but in this case she would make an exception. "So _you_ were the ninja, yes?"

"A little bit."

Her eyes went back to the guitar, and she ran her fingertips over the ninja. "Thank you," she said again.

Tony shifted on the floor beside her, moving closer so that he was brushing against her shoulder. She turned her head to smile at him, but when she did she found him so close and his eyes so warm that her mouth went dry and she started to tingle low down in her belly. Her eyes very quickly flicked to his lips, and then something in the air changed. She didn't know what was coming, but she was pretty sure she would like it.

"So," Tony said softly. "It's the last day on earth."

Ziva released her sudden nerves with a chuckle. "It is not," she argued, just as she had been doing for the last three days."

"But it could be," Tony insisted.

"But it's _not_."

"But it _always_ could be," he said as his amusement drained from his tone, and his eyes turned serious. "For you, for me, for both of us, Ziva. Every day could be our last."

Ziva swallowed. "Tony…"

She stopped when his hand touched hers, and then warm fingertips traced a line from her wrist to her elbow. She shivered obviously as her skin rose in gooseflesh, but she didn't bother with being embarrassed. He was looking at her face so intently that he probably had not noticed.

"This could have been your last," he said, as his fingers touched a scar right above the inside of her elbow. She got it when she was 19 on a mission that went very wrong, and ended with too much of her blood spilled. And then she understood what he was talking about. Both of them had lost too much blood already, and God only knew how much time they had left until they couldn't bleed anymore.

She felt tears prick the back of her eyes at the thought of losing him, but she remained resolute. "But it wasn't," she reminded him softly.

Tony's eyes flicked down to his fingers on her arm before lifting to hers again. Without his visual guidance, his fingertips traveled further up her arm and over the sleeve of her t-shirt. "But if it was," her persisted. "If today was. Right before an arc of fire came down from the heavens and turned you to ash, wouldn't you kick yourself for not trying this out?"

She didn't have to ask what 'this' was. His fingers had moved along the line of her shoulder to her neck, and barely brushed over her skin before dipping down again and stopping just under the neckline of her t-shirt on her back. He was getting ready to pull her in to kiss her, and Ziva knew she was in trouble then. Because she could keep the status quo as long as his lips were over there. But as soon as he came over here, she'd be done for.

She swallowed moisture back into her mouth and inadvertently licked her lips. "Zapata has gotten to you," she accused lightly.

The corner of his mouth lifted for a second. "I was already there. And so were you."

"I have already tried this out," she told him, and she seemed to have no control over how husky her voice had just become. "I have kissed you before."

"Not really," he replied, as his fingers stroked the back of her neck and his face moved a little closer. Her core temperature soared in response. "That was eight years ago. It'd be different now."

She blinked slowly. God, she knew he was right. The kisses they'd shared while undercover had been fuelled by lust for a relative stranger. They'd had none of the bone-deep ache she felt for him now. They had none of the emotion and love. The tension between them now was completely different. And although rolling around in the sheets with him back then had been a bit of fun, just the thought of kissing him now did things to her body that were so much more enjoyable.

"Yes," she replied, but Tony was already talking again, this time with his lips just grazing her cheek.

"I'd kick myself," he told her. "If I had the chance and then walked away."

Ziva turned her head just a fraction, and it was enough to make her lips brush against his. Fire exploded through her body, and she gave herself over to the inevitable. "So, take it," she murmured against him. And in the next breath, he did.

He kissed her so softly at first that she thought he might have changed his mind and was pulling away. Instinctively, she lifted her hand to press it to his cheek to hold him against her a bit longer, but Tony was already coming back for more. The kiss deepened, but he held off the frantic pace lurking just below the surface for something much slower and deeper. The heat within her rose and started to melt her from inside out. When his tongue flicked against her lips and his hand traveled into her hair, she wanted to cry at how good it felt. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been kissed like this—or if she _ever_ had—and she didn't want it to end.

Tony had been right. This kiss was _very_ different to the ones they'd shared eight years ago. Those had been hot, for sure. But they had nothing on this.

All too soon, Tony slowed it down until the kiss ended completely. Ziva opened her eyes slowly, feeling as though she was in a daze, and found Tony looking back at her the same way. She swallowed hard as his hand slid back out of her hair.

"Okay," she said, still feeling light-headed. "If the world ends tonight, I am glad we did that."

Tony smiled, and he gazed at her for a few more seconds before blinking and getting hold of himself. He looked down at his watch. "It's past midnight," he said with a gravelly voice. "I guess we're safe."

"Oh. Well, I am glad we did it anyway."

"Yeah," he said, and gave her a look that made her heart pound before moving in to kiss her again, very briefly. "Happy anniversary. Again."

She broke into a wider smile. "Thank you. It has been memorable."

He nodded and then moved away and got to his feet. Ziva frowned at the action.

"You are going?"

Tony sucked on his top lip for a moment as if he was weighing it up, but in the end he nodded. "Yeah. I think it might be a good idea. For now."

She thought it over, and although it made her heart pang, she knew he was right. It was undeniable that they were moving closer to each other, and that their destination was a foregone conclusion. But they needed to work just a little bit harder before they made it there in good condition. If they kept going like this, it would not be long.

Ziva nodded and got to her feet. "For now," she repeated.

He looked relieved that she understood and then gave her a warm smile. "So. I'll see you back at work tomorrow?"

"Assuming the power is back on," she said.

She walked him to the door, and as she watched him undo all the locks she tried to calm her racing heart, and tamp down her desire to reach out and pull him in for another deep kiss. Tony opened the door and then turned back to give her a small, intimate smile.

"Goodnight," he said.

She smiled warmly. "_Layla tov._"

Tony chuckled, and then gave her a wave before he stepped out the door and headed off down the hallway. Ziva watched him until he turned the corner to the elevator, and then she closed the door and threw one of the locks again. She sucked her lips into her mouth as she wandered aimlessly into her living room again and started down at the guitar. As warm tingles spread from her belly and out to her limbs, she felt her smile grow. It grew until she laughed, and then covered her mouth with her hand.

"Oh, my God," she whispered in disbelief. Had that really just happened? Had Tony really just come here, given her a guitar and kissed her like he, well, loved her? The fact should not have been blowing her mind as much as it was. She was a grown woman with an experienced past, and a kiss—albeit a knee-weakening one—should not be making her feel as giddy as she currently did. But they had waited so long and wanted it so much. She couldn't help the excitement that made every one of her nerve endings buzz, and she decided to let herself enjoy the feeling for as long as it lasted. And hopefully it wouldn't be too much longer before they were ready to move things along and lose themselves in the rapture.

* * *

**That's it, guys! Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Don't be bitter that I didn't take them further. I can't promise that the story I wrote this one to be the lead in for will ever be finished or posted, but I hope this was a bit of fun on its own. **


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